


Will to Act

by ara_chan



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman (Movies - Nolan)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-12
Updated: 2015-08-09
Packaged: 2017-12-05 01:50:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 40
Words: 137,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/717479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ara_chan/pseuds/ara_chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Will to Act</i> is a forty chapter pseudo-fix-it fic that departs from Nolan's canon after <i>The Dark Knight</i>. It is told in three main story arcs: the development of Batman and Gordon's relationship, an action/adventure interlude, and finally Bruce Wayne's decision to pursue a real relationship with the commissioner. The characters not appearing in the Nolanverse films are from the <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Gotham-Central-Book-Line-Duty/dp/1401220371/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1439094269&sr=8-1&keywords=gotham+central"><i>Gotham Central</i></a> comic series. </p><p>The training is nothing.<br/>Will is everything.<br/>The will to act.<br/>-- Ra's al Ghul</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

~October 4~

The spotlight was gone, cleaned up months ago. The broken glass had been swept away the same as everyone's faith in the masked man who had been the hero of the city for the last year. In one night, all of that work had been undone. It didn't matter how many collars the Batman had brought in; it didn't matter that he had scared drug dealers, petty thieves, and would-be rapists into hiding at night instead of preying on others. One lie was all it had taken to turn the entire city against him – nearly all, at least. There were still some who believed, chief among them being Gordon's children. Whenever members of the force had seen Batman on patrol, most radioed in and tried to arrest him, but Gordon knew that a few had allowed him to "escape" on purpose. For every hundred letters that crossed his desk demanding action, a few would trickle in praising the Batman's efforts. The one good thing to come from it all, though, was that no one had reported a single sighting of businessmen in hockey pads roaming the streets to fight crime after the Joker had dangled Brian Douglas from the roof of City Hall. 

Since being driven underground, the Batman had barely been seen on the streets. The occasional criminal still turned up on the front steps of the Gotham Police Department, tied with heavy-weight filament wire or police-issue handcuffs. No one ever saw who deposited the criminals, and just as often as not, their lawyers were able to get them off on insufficient evidence, but it was warming to know that the city's silent guardian was still there keeping watch. 

More importantly, Batman had been invaluable in helping to find buried evidence on those within the department who were dirty. In the ten weeks since the explosion in the Major Crimes Unit building, Gordon had made it a personal mission to find out which of his officers were clean and which he couldn't trust any longer. The Joker had inadvertently given him the perfect excuse to get rid of the city's dirty cops. With nearly eight million dollars in repairs, the police department had to cut back either staff or payroll. It wasn't a popular decision to let go literally hundreds of city employees, but neither would be cutting everyone's salary and benefits packages because the city had slashed another twenty-four million from next year's budget. Between the need for the extensive repairs to the MCU building, new computers for all the precincts, LAN upgrades, and everything else that they needed to keep up with technologically savvy criminals, it was the perfect cover for Gordon to initiate a _tabula rasa_ start within the department. 

Despite everything that had happened, Gordon felt guilty each time the Batman met him late at night to pass along whatever information he had uncovered. Even now, as he took another bundle of evidence from the Batman, he couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't how things were supposed to be done. No all-seeing, mystical hand of judgment was supposed to deliver into his lap the verdict of who was to stay and who was to go; and yet, his friend hadn't been wrong once in his research. The thickness of this latest package made him wonder if there were simply more names than usual that the Batman had been able to dig up, or if he had stumbled onto something big that required considerable evidence in order to make a case stick. 

"Busy week?" Gordon turned the parcel over in his hands, still trying to guess at its contents. When his half-joking question was met with an almost guilty silence, he turned to face the man behind him with an expression of concern. "What's in here?" 

"Something that I wanted to make certain of before I gave it to you." 

"You always are." Even as curiosity gnawed at him, a pervasive sense of weariness kept him from tearing into the neatly wrapped stack of files right then. Whatever was inside, he wasn't going to like it. While his opinion of the matter wasn't likely to improve by sitting on it until morning, at least he would be able to face it with a clear mind. "I hate this," Gordon stated, the softness of his words doing nothing to mask the conviction behind them. "Pretending to hunt you by day only to sneak away at night to meet you here... That's not how it's supposed to work." 

"How else could it be?" 

"It isn't right, and it isn't fair." Though Batman's face was mostly covered in shadows, Gordon could tell that a stern look was being turned on him. He could practically feel the weight of it as Batman's mouth pressed into an even thinner line. It almost seemed as if there were an equal measure of guilt lingering behind Batman's disapproval, though Gordon wasn't certain that it wasn't simply his own feelings being projected onto the other man. 

"What's done is done," Batman finally responded, his voice low and a little gruffer than usual. "We have to keep moving forward." 

"Moving forward recklessly is just as bad as standing idly. Gotham lost both of its figures of hope in one fell swoop of a madman's hand. You shouldn't have to look over your shoulder for both criminals and the police." 

"I _am_ a criminal, and there isn't anything you can do to change that." 

"I could always deputize you. That would fix the problem." It was difficult to be sure, but Gordon almost thought he could see the harsh line of the other man's mouth twitch up into something resembling a smile. He blinked, and it was gone; a trick of the light. Taking off his glasses, Gordon first rubbed his eyes wearily and then set about cleaning his lenses on the edge of his shirt. 

"I highly doubt it." 

It felt remarkably good to imagine the scandalized faces of the city's councilmen should he ever try such a stunt, and it had been too long since he'd felt like laughing. "Forget the mayor, can you imagine the bureaucratic hell I would suffer in council meetings trying to determine what your pay scale would be if you were a city employee? Between overtime and hazard pay, you'd bankrupt us." 

There was no doubt this time that the Batman's expression was amused. His face remained impassive, but his stance was less tense than before. Again, the faintest hint of a smile played over his features. "And a third-shift premium." 

"Bureaucracy or not, I _will_ find a way to clear you of this," Gordon promised, slipping his glasses back on his face. "Don't know how, yet, but I swear that I will." 

Any of the amusement from before drained from Batman's face, and he moved closer to Gordon. The commissioner didn't think that the other man meant for it to be an intimidating gesture, but suddenly having the Batman unhappy with him and within his personal space was enough to require a conscious effort not to flinch or step back. "We've been over this before. My reputation isn't worth the damage it would do to your career or to the city." 

"A career isn't more important than your life. I don't even _like_ this job that much." 

Batman's expression softened marginally. It was an often-heard complaint from the new commissioner. Fortunately, they both knew that Gordon was too dedicated a person to give up just because he hated the politics of the office as opposed to the action of the streets. "I'll be fine. The need to stay ahead of your men keeps me alert. Besides, there are other things that we need to focus on. It's a safe bet that since neither of us has found anything on Lau's whereabouts, there probably isn't much of him left to find. Without his testimony, we'll have to hit the mob another way." 

The mindless dedication which the man put into his work was both admirable and frustrating. Absently, Gordon found himself wishing that his children studied in school with a fraction of the same energy. Thoughts of his children reminded him yet again that Jimmy wasn't the only one upset by the unfairness of the Batman's situation. "I wish that we could just pin all the killings on the Joker," Gordon mused aloud. 

With a minute shake of his head, Batman signaled that he felt nothing more was going to come of the evening that was productive. It was late, later than usual for their roof-top debriefings, and Gordon wasn't focused. He knew as well as Gordon did that shifting the blame wouldn't work. That avenue had been discussed and rejected already. He'd come back another night after the commissioner had had time to read over the latest findings. 

It might have been the lack of sleep over the past several weeks that made Gordon decide to actually press the matter, or it might have been the third pot of coffee that he'd drunk that night, or it might have simply been that the guilt he felt over his friend's predicament was too much for him to stand any longer. Regardless of the cause, Gordon took a step into the Batman's path so that he couldn't simply walk away from their conversation again as he had so many times before. 

"Why not?" he challenged, his tone rising slightly in frustration. "That lunatic was responsible for starting all of this madness in the first place." 

The temptation was great to accept the easy way out, not just for himself but for Gordon as well, but it was a gamble filled with too much uncertainty to be worth the risk. "It would be a lie," Batman replied softly, not wanting to argue again. 

"This is a lie, too!" 

True to form, Batman gave the same answer he had the previous times that Gordon had offered this solution. "The difference is that I won't deny it." He reached out to give Gordon's shoulder a gentle squeeze. It was an awkward gesture; the Batman clearly was not used to offering commiseration. "It's late; go home, Gordon. You're wife is probably starting to get worried about you. We can do this another time." 

It was strangely comforting to know that the other man returned his friendship, despite the distance he tried to put between them. "I'll figure something out," he promised, holding up the files that had been assembled for him. "I owe you that much for these if nothing else." 

"You don't owe me anything." Considering the conversation finished, Batman moved to slip back into the shadows and depart. 

"You know, you should try to accept help and thanks a little more graciously." 

While Gordon's words weren't spoken in anger, or even in irritation, they did cause him to hesitate. He paused to look out over the city he had sworn to protect. "If you can find a way to keep the cops from hunting me, it would be appreciated. But as much as you may want to help me, I don't want Internal Affairs coming down on you." Despite the commissioner's best efforts to maintain a neutral expression, his opinion was written plainly on his features, and Batman replied to his unspoken rebuttal. "Gotham needs a hero that can go out in the light of day. The city needs someone who can stand up honestly and face them." 

Gordon had to bite back a heated retort. It wasn't worth it to argue the point; Batman already knew what he thought on the matter. "I hate to tell you this, but we don't have anyone like that. You're the best we've got." 

"Cities all over the world get along day to day without caped vigilantes on rooftops." 

"Then the regular people need to start pulling their own weight if they don't want to put up with people like us." 

_Us._ This time it was no trick of the light. The Batman's face actually turned up in a small half-smile. "Maybe they will. They'll surprise you, if you let them." 

Gordon shook his head in defeat. They always talked in circles on this point, and tonight was going to be no different than any other. Taking a few steps closer, he leaned against the cool concrete of the ledge that encircled the roof of the building. The nights were starting to get colder, and soon he would have to bring a thermos of coffee up with him when he came to wait on the Batman's visits. "When this is all over... I'm buying you a drink. A really _big_ one." 

Another look of amusement passed between them, and Batman once again turned to go. "I'll hold you to that," he said as he started back for the shadows. 

Not quite ready for the other man to leave yet, Gordon blurted out the first question that came to mind: "How do you get up here, anyway?" It was a lame question, and he knew it must be obvious that he was reaching for an excuse to keep his friend with him a little longer, but he didn't care. 

"Trade secret." 

It took a moment to register that the remark had been a joke, and it surprised Gordon to see that there might be a lot more to the man he spent his nights with than even he had allowed himself to assume. Underneath the rubber and metal, there was a man who had so many emotional issues that he dressed up as a giant bat and terrorized the criminals of one of the most dangerous cities in the country. And through all of that, he was slowly opening up to the commissioner. Gordon couldn't help feeling honored by the level of trust he was being shown day by day. Or rather, night by night, as bats were nocturnal creatures. 

"It takes away from the mystery, but I suppose I trust you not to tell anyone." As he spoke, the Batman moved into the stretch of rooftop bathed in moonlight. He held up one hand like a magician showing his audience that there was nothing up his sleeve. Rather than acting as a distraction for the other hand to produce the illusion, he squeezed his hand which activated one of the many devices he carried. There was a crackling noise, and Gordon literally jumped in surprise as the cape he wore snapped into giant bat wings, as solid as a hang glider. When he released his grip, the material fell limp again. 

"That's... really cool." There were no other words to describe the effect. 

"When I've found out more, I'll let you know." Without looking back, he vaulted over the ledge and let himself drop a few stories before spreading his wings and gliding into the darkness of the city.


	2. Chapter 2

~October 13~

There was no longer any need to rush through the streets in search of shelter. She was already soaked through long before the stairs leading up to the front of Police Headquarters came into view. Having drawn the short straw, Detective Ramirez had been the one sent into the chilly evening's ominous weather to procure coffee and bagels for the floor. As much as she hated doing it, everyone always put too much money in the pool, so she could pocket a few extra dollars each time. Half way to the street-corner kiosk three blocks from the station, the sky had opened up. No amount of dashing for cover would have saved her, so she simply asked to have her order bagged carefully and trudged back to the station. 

"All right, you vultures," she stated loudly, coming back into the squad room. "Here's your damn coffee. As if there weren't a pot in the break room." The responses she got alternated between sympathy for her dripping state and indignation regarding the quality of the sludge and stale doughnuts down the hall. 

One of the other officers from the MCU took pity and threw a towel at her. The lieutenant offered her a grin as he took one of the coffees from the carrier. "Thanks, Ramirez – you're a real pal. Always taking a hit for the team." 

"Shut up, Cornwell," she shot back, faking a tone of long-suffering indignation in response to his teasing. Truthfully, comments like that made her practically ill with guilt. She wasn't the person that everyone thought, but because she was a friend of the commissioner, it had been easy to convince everyone that she had been clocked trying to stop rioters rather than clubbed by Harvey Dent for having helped Maroni. No one had even asked any questions about her cover story; they had all congratulated her on her diligence. It left a churning, acidic feeling in her stomach that she couldn't let anyone else know about. 

Pulling out her hair tie, Ramirez purposefully shook out her hair in Cornwell's direction. Droplets of water went flying at him, and the lieutenant let out a cry of protest. The others around them all laughed at his misfortune, and no one was the wiser about her own inner turmoil. Ramirez forced herself to laugh along with them and turned towards her desk to dump the contents of her pockets before heading down to the locker room to change. Atop the green blotter, there was a hastily scribbled note in the commissioner's familiar hand-writing, summoning her to his office. Even three months after her betrayal, the slip of yellow paper sent a flash like ice water through her. Did he know? Was she finally going to get in trouble? Why would he leave a note on her desk, though, rather than simply arresting her? Since Dent had found out that she had been in Maroni's pocket, since she'd been forced to call Barbara and have her take the kids away, Ramirez had been in a constantly stressed state. 

One of the passing officers saw her trembling, and rubbed her arm encouragingly as she told Ramirez to go change out of her wet clothes. Absently, she nodded and gave a word of thanks. Her coat and sweatshirt were both stripped off and set over the back of her chair to dry, and she rubbed at her hair vigorously with the towel before heading to the elevator to the commissioner's office. She had to mentally tell herself over and over again that there was nothing strange about this. She and Gordon were friends; they talked all the time. There was nothing unusual about being called into his office. 

Except that more and more people over the last month had been either transferred or laid off. Between budget cuts and the loss of the MCU building, it was expected that changes of that sort would have to be made. However, being on the inside, Ramirez had begun to see a trend in just who was getting the axe. Many of them were people that she knew to be dirty or that Gordon had suspected of taking graft. 

Gordon's secretary, Stacy, wasn't outside of the make-shift office that had been set up for the commissioner from one of the administrative conference rooms. As it was several hours into the night shift, it wasn't surprising that she had gone home – or that Gordon was still there, surrounded by open case files. Without a gatekeeper to stop her, Ramirez knocked twice before peering in. "Hey, Jim. You busy?" she managed to keep her voice light despite her fears. 

Gordon looked up from his desk which was littered with papers and files. His face was pinched and tired, but even so, he managed a wry grin. Looking at him caused a stab of pain as she noted how much older he seemed than this time last year. The Batman had given him hope and energy; now, he only looked tiredly determined. _The Joker had that effect on a lot of people,_ she told herself before slipping into the room and shutting the door behind her. Barbara and the kids were all fine. At least he had been sparred that burden. Everything was fine. If she repeated it enough, she would eventually believe it. 

"It's been a crazy week," he replied, leaning back in his chair and scrubbing at his face. "I have to have a proposal ready for Thursday on what programs and upgrades can be put on the back burner until the year after next, and what absolutely has to be done now. It looks like it's going to be a toss-up between radios that work for the patrol cars or a software upgrade for the offices. There's no way we're going to fit hardware into the budget." 

"How did they justify slashing more than ten percent of the budget and then expect all the ends to meet?" Ramirez was happy to redirect the conversation against a common enemy – the bureaucrats in charge. Some of her tension eased when Gordon shook his head and motioned for her to sit down. There was something wrong; she could tell that much from his body language, but it was still too soon to know what it was regarding. 

As she seated herself across from his desk, Gordon noticed for the first time that she was wet. His head tipped to the side a moment before turning in his chair to look out the window behind him. "Has it been raining long?" 

"No, just long enough for Murphy's Law to kick in. Didn't start until I stepped outside." 

"Never rains but it pours, huh?" 

"That's the truth." Whatever was on Gordon's mind had to be bad, since he was stalling with pointless small talk. The uncertainty was worse than knowing. "What was it that you wanted to talk about?" 

"Do you know why I asked you in here?" He continued to stare out the window, but Ramirez could make out his expression reflected in the glass. It wasn't very promising. 

"Well, the budget's stretched tight, and a lot of people have been getting pink-slipped lately. I sure hope it's not that." A weak laugh followed her words, but Gordon's face remained tense and serious. 

"Because things have been so tight, I've been given permission to make cuts in staff. It's certainly not something that's going to win me any popularity contests, but I feel that it needs to be done. There are a lot of hard working people employed here who don't deserve to have their pension cut or their pay grade decreased because some maniac decided to go around blowing up buildings or because the mayor put our money towards one of his pet projects instead of—" Gordon forced himself to stop and lowered his eyes to his hands. Now wasn't the time to get off topic. 

"A lot of the people I've been letting go have been involved in a number of misdemeanors. It's been a hard time for everyone economically, and I didn't want to tarnish their records by pressing complaints against them. It's been mostly small stuff – accepting hush money in exchange for looking the other way at crime scenes, 'forgetting' witness testimony, being just a little too slow while in pursuit. I've been offering those people the chance to either quit quietly or be laid off so that they can still collect their severance packages and have access to unemployment. Oddly, not a single person has voiced a complaint about this when told the reasons for their termination." 

As he spoke, Ramirez sat calmly even though her mind was in a whirl. Why was he telling her this now? Obviously Gordon had to know what she had done, but why wasn't he getting to the point? If he knew, why hadn't she been arrested yet? Numbly, she nodded for him to continue. 

"Some of them were even worse. I finally found out who it was re-selling the drug-bust evidence back onto the streets. Those cops I made deals with. If they would outline their power structure for me, they would simply be fired in exchange for significant dates and the names of the bigger fish. Again, unsurprisingly, not too many complaints. I knew about a lot of it, but I turned my head in the past. I thought that I needed those people because they were more trustworthy than the rest of the trash in other places. I didn't want to believe that the people I trusted with my life would ever... I didn't want to see it, not with you, Anna. Rachel, Harvey, my _family_." 

Ramirez could only sit there with her head hung low. She had no excuses to give. There had been a reason behind her actions, but she was tired of feeling guilty. It was almost liberating to have it known, except that it was still shameful. "Whatever you want me to do," she murmured softly, barely able to get the words out. 

Gordon's chair scraped across the tiled floor as he stood up and moved to stand in front of the window to watch the rain fall. Truthfully, he couldn't bring himself to look at Ramirez as he spoke. "As you don't seem to be opposed to lying, you're going to help me with a little problem I've been having for the last ten weeks. Together, we're going to fix this." 

Her brows drew together in thought as she tried to decipher his words. "You mean, the Batman?" 

With an abbreviated nod, Gordon said, "Everything that we did, he got blamed for. He took the heat for everything that happened because of us." 

"And you want me to instead?" 

"God, no!" The harsh edge left his voice though he only stood there, watching the storm blowing outside his window. "No one deserves to have to live with this, so I've decided that it's all going to be blamed on Maroni instead. Since he died in that car crash, he can't exactly complain about the situation." 

"How do I come into this, then?" The entire situation felt wrong. Gordon was supposed to be one of the good guys, and here he was planning a conspiracy equal to that of any mob boss. 

"You'll corroborate the story that I make up, explaining how Maroni was behind the murders that had been attributed to the Batman. In exchange for your testimony, I'll make sure that the DA gives you a light sentence. After all, your involvement was coerced. You were being manipulated by the mob because of your mother. Right?" 

It wasn't a question. Gordon didn't really care why she had done it. He was offering her an out because of all the things that she had done for him in the past – not to mention that she was the perfect setup to get what he wanted. More than anything else, Gordon was angry at himself for not having noticed in the first place. If he had seen, then he might have been able to do something to stop her before she'd gotten in too deep. 

While it didn't sit well with her, Ramirez nodded obediently at his explanation. She could have protested, could have used the conversation as blackmail against him. After all, Gordon was being just as dishonest as the people he was firing, but she was tired of all the double-crossing. If one more lie could set things right, then that's what she'd do. 

"I'm so sorry, Jim." 

"So am I. I've always like you, Anna. I wish it didn't have to be like this." He finally managed to turn around to look at her. "I'll make sure that you go to the minimum security on the south side. I promise that you'll be safe." 

Ramirez only nodded mutely again, unable to meet his gaze. Gordon knew that cops never fared well in jail, but he was sure that he could talk the DA into a deal. The new guy didn't have the integrity that Dent did, nor did he have the backbone to say no. It was a risky move so early in his career as police commissioner, but Batman was giving them everything. He deserved to have his trust in the city repaid.


	3. Chapter 3

~October 20~

Regardless of what happened as a result of his meeting with Mayor Garcia, Gordon intended to help the city's dark knight in any way possible. It would simply be more convenient if he could have permission to do so rather than working completely under the table. To that end, Gordon had spent days preparing a detailed list of reasons why it was beneficial for the city to have Batman allowed a certain measure of autonomy, why he should be treated as an ally instead of one more criminal to be rounded up. He had run through every argument and potential counterpoint, looking up facts and figures relating to the Batman's work. At the end of his closed-doors presentation, Garcia simply sat blankly at his newly appointed commissioner, ready to jump on the slightest sign of weakness or hesitation. 

At length, he finally set aside the stress ball he had been squeezing throughout the presentation and laced his fingers together calmly. Garcia leaned forward across his desk to close the distance between them and asked, "Are you out of your mind?" 

He was pleased when Gordon remained passive and unfazed, but he continued to press him to see if the façade would crack under pressure. "You were the one who stated, publically, I might add, that the Batman was responsible for no less than three murders, and now you want to turn around completely and point fingers elsewhere? Just a little 'oops, our mistake', and hope no one looks too closely?" 

"As Batman was seen fleeing the scene of Dent's murder, and as there was no forensic evidence found there to suggest otherwise, it seemed logical at the time to suspect his involvement – an assumption strengthened by the fact that he didn't come forward to refute the allegations. However, as I just explained, new evidence has presented itself." Gordon was a little disturbed by how fluidly and effortlessly he was able to lie. He could have been relating the weather to the mayor rather than feeding him a hand-spun falsehood that was crafted to get his friend out of trouble. Perhaps it was the fact that this was a lie designed to right another lie that made it so easy for him. 

After a few more moments of strict evaluation, Garcia seemed to decide that he approved of whatever it was in Gordon that he was looking at. He settled back in his chair once more and stared up at the ceiling. "Maroni, huh?" 

"Yes, sir. When Detective Ramirez came forward to confess about her activities, it all fit together. I remembered having seen him loitering around the hospital that Dent was staying in. Just before the Joker announced his intentions to blow up Gotham General, Maroni dropped a hint that he knew where the Joker was going to be. It was all a ruse to get us away from Dent. I found a pair of agents who were working the scene that day, and they confirmed that Maroni continued to linger around the hospital even after I'd left to go after the Joker. That in combination with Ramirez's testimony makes a pretty solid case against Sal Maroni." 

The mayor leveled his gaze on Gordon skeptically. "You're going out on quite a limb for this Batman character. Commissioner Loeb wanted him off the streets, but it sounds to me like you're sanctioning what he's doing." 

"Two years ago, there were over two thousand six hundred murders being committed within the metropolitan area each year. Cops were handed envelopes filled with money, and heads were turned the other way. No one said anything; no one did anything. There were almost six hundred violent crimes happening every single _day,_ and judges were paid off to release the few people who actually got arrested for them. Since Batman showed up in Gotham eighteen months ago, murders have gone down to only three or four a day and the rate of violent crimes has actually dropped to below the national average. In the three months since he was wrongly accused and has been off the streets, the city has begun to backslide, and if the trend continues, in another three months, we'll be where we were before he showed up." 

"Tell me, Gordon, do you approve of vigilantism in general, or just him?" 

"Think of the Batman less as an uncontrolled vigilante roaming the streets and more like a private contractor: an unofficial, off-the-books deputy of sorts." 

Mayor Garcia's jaw dropped at that, and he stared in disbelief a moment before finding his voice. "He expects to be _paid_?" 

It took Gordon a moment of his own to work through the unexpected reply. He should have known that, in the end, everything came down to money. "I highly doubt it. He won't even accept a 'thank you' from me, so I don't think that he'd accept money. In fact, he'd probably take offense if it were offered." 

"So you two are close, then? Go out for drinks together after work?" 

"I don't think that anyone is close with Batman. But I feel that we understand each other in a way. Like Dent said, I trust him to do what's right." Taking a chance, he laid a few of his cards on the table. "In the past, we have liaised on a few projects together to fight against the mob. He talks to me about his movements, most of the time, anyway. And he's never turned me down if I need help." 

"Except for that part where you accused him of killing Harvey Dent and four others." Garcia put up a hand to stop Gordon from commenting further. "Look, if you don't tell me what it is you two get up to on the roof of police headquarters, then I don't have to acknowledge that any of it goes on. I happen to think that the Batman is a danger to society. Maybe not right now, not this moment, but he's a loose cannon. It's impossible to keep up with the amount of property damage he's been party to, and I'm certain that one day, he _will_ go too far." 

"All the more reason to make an unofficial arrangement with him. He's less likely to fly off the handle if he doesn't have hundreds of cops after him every night. And if we came to an agreement about when and how we'd like him to step in, then it would cut down on the amount of damage done to the city. Though personally, I'm more concerned about the criminals still hiding out in the Narrows, the mob families who aren't terribly happy about their bosses being held in Blackgate, and a certain psychopathic clown who has already made two attempts at escaping Arkham since his capture." 

Mention of the Joker made Garcia reflexively turn to look at the window that has been struck by Brian Douglas's body only a few months ago. Letting out a slow sigh of resignation, Garcia asked, "If he were to be granted certain ... liberties ... would you be willing to take full responsibility for his actions? Keep him on a leash, make sure he doesn't go too far, and take care of him if he ever does?" 

Gordon raised an eyebrow at that last part, wondering if the mayor had meant to invoke images of old gangster movies and horse heads. "I'll accept responsibility for him. I'm certain that if given room to work without having to run for his life as well, things will be much smoother all around for us. He's the best thing for Gotham right now, Mayor." 

"I don't know if I'd go as far as to say 'best', but we certainly need _something_. The usual isn't working, so I suppose that means we need to resort to the unusual. It wasn't that long ago that Dent was standing right there, trying to feed me _his_ extraordinary plan on how to clean up Gotham's streets. It got him and several other people killed. If you really want to do this, Gordon, I want you to keep close tabs on the situation. I want bi-monthly reports, proving that the benefits of this fiasco-waiting-to-happen are outweighing the risks. As long as they do, you can have your 'unofficial, off-the-books deputy'."


	4. Chapter 4

~October 27~

Wayne curled in on himself when a swath of brilliant light fell across his face, dragging him unwillingly back to consciousness. He attempted to articulate a sentence expressing his displeasure at this, but all that came out was a series of grunts ending in a piteous moan. After taking a moment to collect himself, Wayne pulled his head out from under his pillow just enough to be able to squint up at Alfred with half-open eyes. "Wha' time?" 

"A quarter of ten. My apologies for the hour, sir, but I thought you might want to see this earlier rather than later." 

The morning newspaper was extended to him, and it took Wayne several tries to reach out and grab it. "Went to bed two hours ago. Better be'n emergency..." 

Pulling himself into a semi-upright position, Wayne shook open the paper and suddenly found himself feeling very much awake. The words **'BATMAN: FRIEND OR FOE?'** jumped up at him from the page. Underneath was a small photograph of Commissioner Gordon next to another dark, grainy photo of the Batman. His mouth set into a hard line as he rapidly skimmed through the article. 

_The Gotham Police Department released new evidence today which named the late Salvatore Maroni as the man responsible for the murders of former District Attorney Harvey Dent and four others ... A witness stepped forward late last night, admitting to being in league with the famous mobster. Detective Anna Ramirez confessed to ..._

Amid a whirlwind of questions at today's early-morning press conference, Gordon was quoted as saying: "Harvey Dent worked hard and gave his life in his efforts to protect Gotham. While Harvey didn't condone all of his actions, he did have faith in Batman and publicly announced that he trusted him to do the right thing. After Harvey's tragic death, the city turned its back on Batman, holding him responsible for crimes that we now know were perpetrated by the same men responsible for unleashing the Joker on Gotham. It's time to make that right. And that is why I am coming forward today: I believe in Batman, just as Harvey did." 

The article continued with various news analysts' opinions of what this turn of events would mean for the city, but Wayne couldn't be bothered with reading what they had to say. Barely able to believe what he had seen, he all but sprung from the bed and hurried from the room wearing nothing more than his striped pajama bottoms. 

Alfred followed diligently as Wayne made for the nearest television set and turned it to the news channel. It wasn't hard to find the story, as several local stations were all flashing symbols of a bat and offering sound bites on the matter. One liberal station put forth the suggestion that the Batman was really a secret government operative sent in a bold, new initiative to clean up some of the corruption in Gotham, while one of the more conservative announcers on another channel went on about the decline of reliability in city office, specifically questioning Gordon's ability to lead the police department if he were the sort to back criminals and justice outside of the law. 

Wayne shook his head, chuckling humorlessly. Catching his valet's questioning glance, he explained, "I should have seen this coming, Alfred. We talked about this. Or something like it. Gordon kept saying that he'd find a way to clear Batman's name regardless of how many times I told him it wasn't important right now. There are other things that need to be focused on, and Batman kept trying to brush this off. I know Gordon's not one to let things go, but I'd really hoped that for once..." His words trailed off, and he shrugged, seemingly caught between annoyance and appreciation. 

"Perhaps it's all for the best, sir," Alfred interjected, his head inclined at an angle that Wayne had come to recognize as a sign that wisdom was about to be imparted, along with a piece of his mind. "Maybe this isn't what you wanted, but it's not about what you want. Gotham needs to have faith in something. The people respect Commissioner Gordon, they admire him, but they need more than just a man. They need a hero." 

"I told you, Batman isn't a hero. He can't afford to be. He has to be able to make choices that—" 

"All right, then," Alfred interrupted sternly. "A symbol. A representative, albeit a dark one, of the forces of good counteracting the forces of evil and chaos. Without the police on his side, Batman is just another agent of chaos. As much as you and I know that isn't true, that's how it looks to the people. They need to know that they can trust Batman, and this will allow them to do that, to look up to him with hope rather than fear. Whether you like the commissioner's plan or not, you can't deny that it's a good thing." 

An almost tense silence settled between them as Wayne thought over what he'd been told. It still didn't sit well with him, but Gordon's statement was all over the news both in print and on television. There was no way that he could take it back without appearing to be hopelessly incompetent. "It's really annoying when you're right." 

Smugly satisfied with himself, Alfred replied, "You would have come to the same conclusion in time, sir. Batman's guilt filled an immediate need at the time, but needs change. He has a more important role to play. Though one can't help wondering how the commissioner got permission to pull off this stunt of his." 

"Or if he even thought about asking before doing it." 

"If he didn't, I'm sure GCN will be reporting on it long before it's time for you to be getting up. I'll keep an eye on the news and alert you to any important updates." 

After failing to stifle a heavy yawn, Wayne shook his head sleepily. "You do that. Batman will have a talk with him later. Public support from the commissioner doesn't necessarily mean that the police won't continue trying to arrest him on sight." 

"Though, it would be nice if it meant that they would stop shooting at you. It's not easy trying to get the dings out of that suit." 

Wayne grimaced and turned his back on the other man. "Good night, Alfred." 

"Good night, sir. Sleep well." 

*****

Gordon felt that it was to his credit that not only was he able to tell when Batman came up behind him but that he didn't even flinch as the low voice offered him a greeting. 

"Doing well?" Gordon asked in return. 

"Surprisingly. I hear that you're to blame for that." 

"I had to." 

"I thought that we had agreed. I didn't need you to do this for me." 

"You didn't need it, but you did deserve it. And I warned you that I would do it if I could." 

"And I warned you that there would be consequences for helping me that you shouldn't have to face. If you get in trouble for this because of me—" 

He was cut off by Gordon's raised voice. "If I get in trouble, it's because of _me_. _My_ choices, _my_ actions. I did what I knew was right. I need someone on my side that I can trust. I had thought, if anyone, I could trust Anna. I liked her; she was more than just a colleague." He clasped his hands together in front of him and leaned on the roof ledge to look down several stories to the street below. "This damned city really gets to you. Everyone. I must be the worst judge of character ever. How did I get this job? I can't even tell which of my own people are honest." 

Batman made no reply, but he didn't leave either. Several moments passed in silence. Once or twice, it seemed like Batman had shifted as if to make some sort of remark, but he always backed down before offering any words of encouragement. The fact that he hadn't taken off was reassuring enough to Gordon. 

"Anyway, it doesn't matter. I'm stuck with this job, and you're stuck with what I told the press. Like you said before, what's done is done. We can only move on." Gordon continued staring off over the ledge, trying to force his voice to sound more confident and more optimistic than he really felt. Inside, he was exhausted, both physically and mentally. He still managed some sleep at nights, but each new disappointment was like an albatross around his neck. 

Honest men didn't last long in positions of power in Gotham, either because they were made to disappear, they became corrupted by the system, or they burned themselves out fighting to stay morally upright. "You can do more good this way. Gotham needs you more on the streets as a symbol of good than as a fall-guy for what happened. That much is obvious if the last few weeks are any indicator." 

When no rebuttal was forthcoming, Gordon assumed that his silence was the Batman's way of saying that he approved. The commissioner felt a measure of relief at not having to argue the matter any further; it wasn't exactly the smartest move to alienate one of the few people in the city he knew was on his side. "It wasn't a lie, what I said on the news. I believe in you, and others do, too." 

For a moment, Batman found himself at a loss for words. Gordon's faith in him seemed to be unshakeable, no matter how many times he tried to tell the other man that it was misplaced. "It won't be people like me who save this city," he replied softly. "It needs to be people like you, like Harvey, who change things for the better." 

"Two out of thirty-three million... It could take awhile at that rate." The commissioner forced a grin to show that he didn't really mean to sound defeatist. 

"Sometimes all you need is for one person to stand up. It's happened before in Gotham." 

"One person can't do this alone. I need you." His words were barely above a whisper, and Gordon couldn't look up from his clasped hands as he spoke them. His head felt too heavy to lift; even if he could, guilt would have kept him from meeting Batman's gaze. Gotham's night-time guardian gave them all so much already, asking for more seemed cruel. 

Oblivious to his turmoil, Batman's reply was spoken without hesitation. "As long as you need me, I'll be here." 

Although there had been a note of finality in the man's words, there was no tell-tale rustling of fabric to herald his departure. When a small noise came from behind him a moment later, Gordon assumed that Batman had finally retreated for the evening. He nearly jumped from surprise when a black gauntlet reached out from the inky blackness to rest lightly on top of his hand. Even Batman's fingers were covered in metal-coated body armor, proving that the man within the suit was just as human as anyone else, just as concerned with his own safety and mortality. The hand covering his own felt impossibly real, and Gordon gripped it tightly in response. 

"I'm not sure which version of you I like to think of more... That you're an unstoppable superhero who might have a chance of fixing this mess, or that under all that you're just a regular man." He let out a weak, strained laugh. "Maybe not 'regular', but at least it would mean that I might have a chance of making it, too." 

"You have the potential to be the best commissioner Gotham's ever had. You don't _want_ the power – you want a cleaner, better city for the people here. We'll give it to them." The certainty in Batman's voice was unwavering despite the low, gravelly tone he used. "One day, you really will have to bring me in for the things I've done, but until then, I won't let you down." 

The fact that Batman was giving him a pep talk, as if he were a child in need of soothing, was incredibly surreal. It made Gordon wonder if the Batman had children, a family of his own that he was fighting for. Or maybe he didn't, and that was the reason that he was on the roof of the police station in the small hours of the morning instead of being at home with the people he loved. Of course, Gordon had a family, and he was there also. But then, Gordon had wanted desperately to see the man he thought of as his friend. It warmed him to think that Batman had wanted to see him, too. The fact that Batman's hand was still covering his own suggested that maybe he had. 

Drawing in a deep breath, Gordon managed to summon the courage to stand up straight and turn to face the other man. As he did so, he tightened his hold on Batman's hand to keep him from retreating back into the darkness. This time, it wasn't guilt that kept him from being able to lift his gaze to meet Batman's. This time, Gordon was afraid of what he might see in the other man's expression. If Batman was only half-patiently putting up with him, then Gordon didn't want to know. Instead, he let his eyes roam over the intricacies of the metal suit in front of him. 

"I've been meaning to ask..." Gordon cleared his throat, trying to make conversation to fill what he perceived as an awkward silence. Turning over the hand he held to more closely inspect the suit's construction, he gingerly touched one of the spikes. "Where do you get these things from? They definitely don't carry these at Sears & Roebuck." 

"I do a lot of custom work. And I wouldn't touch those. Spring loaded." He had nearly taken his own face off the first time he'd picked up the new bracers, and he didn't want Gordon hurting himself. Yet, he couldn't bring himself to take his hand back. After Rachel's death, he had felt little except emptiness, so it was surprising how nice the simple act of physical contact was. 

Taking the warning as a signal to back off, Gordon withdrew his hand carefully from the weapon and held both up in a gesture of surrender. "I suppose it must be hard to find something like this in your size on the rack anyway." He started to reach out to touch the stylized bat symbol on the man's chest, but he managed to hold himself in check. "This one's a little bit different than the one you used to wear, isn't it? How much does something like that cost to make?" 

"Why? Interested in buying some for your unit?" 

There was a note of amusement in Batman's voice, and Gordon was glad that he wasn't actually put off by the questions. 'Private' didn't even begin to do justice in describing the man. "I would love to be able to get my hands on some equipment half as good as the stuff you have, but right now, we don't even have the money to get the MCU building back up to code, let alone to outfit our boys in Kevlar body armor. I assume that's what this is, right?" This time he really did reach out and tap the suit, listening to the sound it made. It sounded expensive. 

Since he spent most of his time cloaked in darkness, it was surprising that Gordon had been able to notice the subtle changes from one incarnation of the suit to the next. Of course, the man's skill as a detective was one of the things that had drawn Batman's attention to him in the first place. Despite the fact that he knew it was dangerous to do so, Batman couldn't bring himself to leave just yet. All that was waiting for him at home was a silent apartment and more records to sift through so he could have another report ready for Gordon the following week. 

"This one's a combination of Kevlar and titanium," he replied, looking over his shoulder as he spoke. Although he trusted Gordon completely, he had no interest in some junior rookie stumbling across them by accident. Even so, it was remarkably calming to have something to talk about beyond Gotham's criminal element. "But it's still too heavy to be practical for police officers on the streets." 

Gordon was surprised by his friend's willingness to continue the conversation. Usually the Batman came and went quickly and efficiently once he had what he wanted. And Gordon couldn't blame him for that – it must have been murder on his throat to constantly keep his voice low and gravelly so that it wouldn't be identifiable. Even more surprising than the idle small talk was the way in which the Batman's eyes were evaluating him, the way his mouth was turned up in the barest hint of a smile. The commissioner could feel a flush warm his cheeks under the intensity of the other man's scrutiny, and suddenly, he nearly gave in to the impulse to lean over and kiss him. He was already starting to close the distance between them when he realized what he was doing. Gordon stuffed his hands roughly into the pockets of his coat, and he desperately wished that there were a pack of cigarettes in one of them. If he could smoke, then that would give him something to do with his hands, and more importantly, with his mouth rather than giving in to some half-baked, desperately lonely gesture. 

"I should... I should probably get back," was Gordon's weak attempt at covering his embarrassment. "To work, that is." 

Although he noticed the commissioner’s sudden uneasiness, Batman elected not to comment on it, or on the way in which Gordon had pressed up against him. It wasn’t surprising that the commissioner was on edge. Despite having been cleared of multiple counts of murder and having been given some autonomy to do his work as needed, there was still a lingering certainty that he would eventually be held accountable for his actions. The less that Gordon interacted with him, the safer it would be for him. Batman hesitated at the edge of the shadows, contemplating his next move carefully. He had brought something with him with the intention of giving it to Gordon, but he wasn't sure if it was safe to do so. If Gordon were to be investigated for their association, he didn't want to be the cause of even more trouble for him. On the other hand, it was slightly more subtle than a giant spotlight on the roof of police headquarters. 

"Here." As he turned back to face Gordon once more, he withdraw a small device from its storage place on his belt. The commissioner's eyes widened in surprise as it was tossed across the space between them. "For when you need me." 

Gordon turned over the small, rectangular piece of metal in his hands, inspecting it curiously. It was black, brushed metal with the same symbol of a bat etched into it that appeared on Batman's suit of armor. Hesitantly, he opened it, and a purple backlight illuminated a number keypad and screen. "It's a cell phone?" 

"Not exactly. You won't get any other reception but me." His mouth turned up slightly into what Gordon was learning passed as a smile for him. "Press and hold the 'one' button to initiate a tracking locator if you're in danger. Dial or text 'nine-one-one ' to send a direct message. I won't always be able to pick up, but it would be easier to communicate in an emergency." 

The little machine filled him with a strong urge to take it apart and inspect its innards. Instead, he settled for pressing the number one on the keypad and holding it down to see what would happen. A moment later, there was an urgent beeping sound from in front of him. Batman pulled out another expensive-looking device and held it up for his inspection. "Same principle as GPS. If there's a problem, I can find you." 

"Can you call me up on this as well?" Batman nodded. "If you need my help, can I track you with it?" 

For a moment, Batman was at a loss. The idea had never occurred to him. "I'll keep that in mind for next version." 

It was heartening to know that Batman expected to be around that long. "I kind of miss the spotlight," he admitted, turning his head to look at the broken frame that remained exactly where it had been before the Joker. "It reminded everyone that there won't be a reason to be afraid for much longer." 

Shaking his head, Batman finally did turn to go. "You could always requisition a new one," was all he said before abruptly vaulting over the edge of the building to swoop off into the streets of Gotham. 

"Don't think that I wouldn't!" Gordon was grinning from ear to ear as he turned to retrieve his briefcase and head home as well. Even though he'd said it as a joke, Gordon began making a mental list of the people he might be able to ask to help fix the spotlight. After all, it was only fair to let the criminal element of Gotham enjoy Batman's return to the city as much as he did.


	5. Chapter 5

~November 1~

Holidays were always a stressful time for the police department, but as far as Gordon was concerned, Halloween was the worst. It didn't have the depression and suicide rates of Christmas and Valentine's, the drunk-driving accidents of New Years and St Patrick's Day, or the increased rate of arson and fireworks mishaps seen around the Fourth of July. No, Halloween gave license to every hoodlum, thug, and criminal with a ten-dollar Ronald Regan mask from Wal-Mart to run rampant on the streets. 

Invariably, the evening began with the black and whites being kept on the move by calls from little old ladies getting TPed and grouchy school teachers whose cars had been egged, but the longer the sun was down, the crazier and more dangerous the offenders seemed to get. Fortunately, the goblins, witches, and pirates out in search of candy were, for the most part, safely back at their beds before the real monsters came out. Gordon had gone home in the late afternoon to take his kids around the neighborhood before night had fallen, then left them to watch scary movies with their mother so he could return to tackle the streets as the crazies began their rounds. 

By the time he got back to the station, the plastic pumpkins and skeleton window clings that had been up all month had been replaced so that the entire floor was decorated in black crepe streamers and rubber bats that hung from the ceiling, menacing those who approached with bloody fangs. While he'd had to endure a lot of good-natured snickering as he made his way from the elevators to the room in the PDHQ that he had commandeered as his office, it still made Gordon feel good that his men could joke about his association with Batman rather than being upset by it. 

Now, hours later, Gordon stood on the roof of police headquarters to watch the first of the morning traffic as in began to make its way through the streets below. The sky was just starting to turn from black to a softer purple, and those who had been out all night were on their way home while those who kept more reasonable hours were just beginning to stir. Being a Saturday morning, his son would probably be up by the time he got home, seated in front of the television with a bowl of hideously sweet cereal watching cartoons, but at least Barbara wouldn't be awake to chastise him about the hour. 

"You know, Jim, you're the commissioner now – not the personal savior of the city." Gordon could smell the wafting odor of coffee as Stephens came up behind him. "You're entitled to actually go home and sleep from time to time." 

Gordon nodded his thanks as he took the mug that was being offered to him. "That's why I had the couch put in my office, so that I wouldn't need to leave. And you don't get to talk; you're here, too." 

"I'm just a graveyard-shift kinda guy. Mornings aren't any fun unless seen on the way to bed. But if you don't start going home more often, the Feds are going to make you change the address line on your tax form to say you live here instead." 

With a heavy sigh, Gordon leaned forward to rest his body against the concrete ledge. He was tired, and not just from a sleepless night. "I feel like I'm barely keeping my head above water. I don't know how Garcia could have mistaken me for someone who could ride a desk and handle this sort of a job." 

"People respect you." Stephens' words were matter-of-fact with a hint of surprise that the other man didn't know. 

"For now. We'll see how long that lasts. The mayor is already starting to interfere with my work." 

"I'm usually up on all the good gossip – what's Garcia doing now?" 

"You familiar with a detective named Harvey Bullock?" 

Stephens shrugged. "Heard of him. He's got a rep for being a hardass but has a great collar record. We never worked the same precinct, so all I've got is rumor and hearsay about him beyond that. Likes to push the envelope, has gotten in trouble a couple of times for not playing nicely with the other children in the sandbox, but I've never heard anything other than he's 100% on the level about his job." 

"Garcia pulled some strings and is having him transferred here to work in our sandbox in about two weeks. He'll be on Cornwell's team, so you'll be seeing a lot of each other." 

"I'm not seeing any real advantage to that, so I'm guessing 'hidden political agenda'?" 

"The official word is that because of what happened to Loeb, my somewhat high-profile promotion, and my known association with the Batman, I'm not the most popular man in town with the criminal element. Garcia informed me that he was assigning Bullock to me as 'protection'. If I go out on casework, he comes to keep me safe. And by 'safe', he probably means 'out of trouble'." A note of bitterness had begun to creep into Gordon's voice as he spoke, and he let out another long sigh. "I don't want to go in with a preconceived notion that Bullock will be here to spy on me and report back to the big dog, but that's what it feels like." 

A frown tugged at Stephens' features as he shook his head. "Sorry, I don't know enough about him personally to be able to say either way if he's the sorta guy who'd do that. But one thing about this is bugging me – I knew that the Commish was allowed to have a personal detachment that was assigned as protection, but I thought you were supposed to be allowed to pick them yourself?" 

"The commissioner usually does select the people on his team himself, but this was something Garcia wanted. I can't exactly tell him 'no', but that doesn't mean that I can't select others as well." He leveled his gaze squarely on Stephens. 

"I don't know if I like the way you're looking at me." 

"With great power comes great responsibility. With great responsibility comes a higher pay grade." 

Stephens laughed and replied in an equally teasing tone, "Then I'm your man. I will tackle that higher pay grade and show it who's in charge around here." 

"That's what I wanted to hear." More seriously, Gordon added, "If I'm going to do this, it's going to be on my terms." 

"Wouldn't have expected any less." 

"I want someone there with me that I know won't knife me in the back. That may not be fair to Bullock, but that's the way it is. I'm still debating if I want to promote a third person to the position so that I know the numbers are on my side." 

"Sawyer's a good cop. Good instincts; trusts you." 

"She does, but I want her where she is, in charge of the MCU. She's got leadership skills that I'd rather utilize there. Besides, Cornwell doesn't give her lip. She might actually make him into a good officer." 

"And by 'doesn't give her lip', you mean that he doesn't sass her when you're around to hear." 

"As long as I don't hear about it, then I trust that Sawyer's taking care of it. He's a kid, but he's a natural detective. We'll learn him up right eventually." Gordon sipped at his coffee, sad to find that even the office sludge was good when he'd had as little sleep as he was running on. "I guess I'll give Bullock a test-run before I start thinking about shuffling anyone else around. See if we all get on well." 

"It's a ballsy move. Garcia's pretty flexible, but he does have a stubborn side when he gets irritated. Especially if you plan to stick it to his pet project." 

"What's the worst that'll happen? He can appoint someone else to be commissioner, and I'll go back to hitting the streets. It's a fairly win-win situation." 

"If it means anything, I think it's smart to have a man in charge who not only knows what it's like on the streets but actively keeps himself in the picture. You remember the guy two commissioners before Loeb?" 

"The kid with the MBA?" Gordon's face drew into a grimace. "He lasted six weeks longer than my bet in the office pool. Sanchez took one hell of a pot when he finally quit." 

"You may be pleased to hear that, to the best of my knowledge, there aren't any bets on how long you'll last." His gaze drifted out over the city before coming to rest on a familiar shadowy form on one of the rooftops across the street from the police department. "In fact, this one of the better holiday seasons we've had because of you. Kind of nice having a little extra help." 

"With any luck, we won't need it much longer, though." 

"As far as I'm concerned, he can stay just as long as he wants." 

"I doubt this is really what he wants to do with his life, but I'm glad he's always there when he's needed." 

Checking his watch, Stephens made a sad noise. "The wife will kick my ass if I don't get home soon. I'm going to go drop my reports on your desk and head out." 

"Goody. One more file to read." He clapped the detective on the shoulder warmly. "Oh, and I don't need to see you back here today. You've done a good job; I really appreciate it." 

"You're an easy man to work for. It's nice, feeling like you've accomplished something at the end of the day." He raised his mug in a sort of salute to the figure across the street who was still watching them. Stephens' eyebrows rose in surprise when the Batman actually raised a hand in silent acknowledgement before turning to disappear back into what was left of the fading darkness.


	6. Chapter 6

~November 13~

For years, Bullock had believed that police headquarters looked like a museum. It was five stories of granite that housed ideals like 'ethics' and 'justice' on dusty shelves. Every once in a while, some old and tired curator would come around and put them display for people to look at, but that was all. He had only been inside the building a handful of times himself. Once when he had first graduated from the academy and again when he had made detective, then a few random incidents to make a statement or transfer a prisoner. Looking up at the building, Bullock couldn't help thinking what a perfect representation the building was for the department. It had giant pillars lining the front door like silent guardians sweeping up to a statue of Lady Justice, filling those who saw it with a momentary sense of awe at the early twentieth century architecture. Inside, there was clogged plumbing, bad wiring, and lights that flickered. It was a pompous front for a shitty interior that was too steeped in tradition to ever be changed. 

Licking the final remains of doughnut glaze from his fingers, Bullock stared up at the towering structure once more. He didn't want to go inside; he didn't want to be a part of the building that purported to be some sort of great and shining answer instead of a place where real people put their lives on the line while doing their jobs. The coffee he had purchased outside the station before heading downtown had grown cold, but he took a long swig from the paper cup anyway before throwing the remains into the same trash receptacle as the wax paper from his cruller. 

This Gordon fellow would be the fifth commissioner he had served under throughout the duration of his career. Up until a few weeks ago, he had managed to avoid being given shit by anyone more important than his immediate captain, another position that had changed hands several times over the last decade. Bullock still had no idea how he had managed to draw the attention of the commissioner. He had never done anything particularly exceptional, and as far as he was concerned, neither had the new commissioner. If some old fart went and got himself shot, that was no reason to promote him – especially since Loeb had been offed on the new guy's watch, right under his nose. And now they wanted him to turn over all his open cases, leave his beat and his contacts, and come downtown to play babysitter for a man who would probably either quit or be killed in a few months anyway. 

It was the second, more likely outcome that made the detective nervous. Captain Evans had been incredibly vague on his new position within the department, just that he had to serve on some sort of new protection detail, and that there would be no arguments about it. It didn't matter that he had tried to explain that he was a highly-trained criminal investigator, not a security guard. He certainly didn't get paid well enough to work as a protection detail for a man who had painted a target on his own chest. While Bullock didn't know the commissioner personally, or even in passing, he did know a few details about him. Everyone knew that he was the loony cop with a thing for bats. It was really hard to miss a giant spotlight sweeping the skies at night. Gordon had gone from being a complete unknown within the ranks, to a lieutenant attached to the district attorney's office, to the police commissioner, all within the span of about a year. 

In any other city, spending as many years on the Force as Gordon had without a promotion would have meant that either the guy _really_ liked leg work, or he was too incompetent to promote. Sometimes an officer would have the misfortune of being too valuable to promote, but more often than not, it meant that he was an idiot. In Gotham, it was different. Gordon's lack of promotions probably meant that he wasn't a 'team player', which was another term that had a completely different meaning in Gotham than in other places. It meant that Gordon was clean. Gotham was the only city that he'd ever heard of where it was actually considered 'uncooperative' for cops not to take bribes from the mob. However, in Bullock's opinion, being honest wasn't any more a qualification for the job of police commissioner than getting shot in the line of duty. 

Swearing under his breath, the detective forced himself to start walking up the steps of the station. The sooner he went in there, the sooner he would know why the hell he had been transferred to center ring of the circus. After patting down the pockets of his rumpled trench coat, he managed to find a blister pack with a single square of Nicorette gum left in it. He swore again as he punched it out and put the empty package back in his pocket so that he'd remember to get more before his next shift started. There was no way that he was going to be able to deal with whatever was coming without a little more chemical support than was offered in the watered-down coffee in the break room carafes. 

Just inside the door was what Bullock considered to be one of the great irritations of his life. Every day, before he could punch in, he was forced to empty his pockets into small plastic bins. While he couldn't argue with the common sense of having a metal detector to prevent lunatics from coming in and capping everyone, it was a hassle to be constantly emptying his pockets every time he came to work. His wallet, gun, and shield all went in the bin, as did his loose change, the partial roll of mentos from his coat, and even his hat which had an irritating little buckle that set the damned things off every time he forgot. 

As he was collecting his things on the other side of the detector, a middle-aged officer in plain clothes came up to meet him. "You Bullock?" he asked without any greeting or introduction. 

"Depends on who's asking." 

"Gerry Stephens." The other detective held out his hand, but Bullock only stared at it as if uncertain why anyone would make such a gesture. Clearing his throat, Stephens tried again, "I'm one of the night shift detectives here; we're going to be working together." 

With a critically evaluating gaze, Bullock looked him over from top to bottom more than once before deciding that he approved of whatever it was that he saw standing there. "Harvey Bullock. So you're the new partner, huh?" 

"Not exactly." Bullock wasn't the only one mentally sizing up the other man. One of the things Stephens prided himself on was his ability to make fairly accurate judgments about a person even when given very little to go on. It was what made him a good detective, and it was what had told him that Jim Gordon wasn't a complete screwball for putting a bat-shaped search light on the roof a year ago. 'A challenge' was the phrase that came to mind as he looked over Harvey Bullock. But as his opinion wasn't going to change the situation any, he decided that it was too early in the partnership to go rubbing anyone the wrong way. "Your new partner is taking some extended leave time. She's visiting family overseas and won't be back for a while." 

" _She?_ " His tone was almost disbelieving as he repeated the pronoun. "Are you serious?" 

"Yeah, Renee Montoya. She's a good officer. Bright, sharp wit, sharp tongue, too. And a piece of free advice – you will make _no_ friends here if we all have to take a sexual harassment seminar because you give her shit for using a different restroom." 

Bullock's hands were instantly in the air in a gesture of surrender. "Hey, no offence to the ladies intended. They can be pretty good about digging up evidence and getting witnesses to talk, but it's different when bullets are flying, you know? I don't want no partner that I can't trust to pull my ass out of the fire if things go to hell." 

"That's one of the many joys of being a peon: I don't make the decisions. I'm just tellin' it like I heard it. If you don't like it, you can take it up with the big dog. But otherwise, Jim says I'm supposed to show you around the place and hook you up with anything you need. We'll be working together until Montoya gets back." Gesturing behind him into the station, he asked, "You've been here before, yeah? Do you want the full tour or just upstairs where we'll be working?" 

As Stephens turned to start walking away from the security entrance, Bullock fell into step beside him. "Let's just get upstairs. I can figure out locker rooms and vending machines later. Who's 'Jim', anyway? Thought the captain was some guy named 'Sawyer'." 

It was more fun than it should have been to tell him that Sawyer was a _she_ not a _he_. Bullock's face blanched again, but he didn't voice any complaints, which was a point in his favor. "Maggie is one of the best people I've ever worked with. Jim only put her in charge of the Major Crimes Unit two or three months ago, but she's doing a great job of shaping things up. 'Jim' being the commissioner, that is," he added to clarify Bullock's earlier question. 

"Gordon, huh? So you're all buddy-buddy with the Commish?" Bullock turned another long, evaluating glance at the detective as they stepped into the elevator. He wasn't so certain of his original assessment of the guy if he liked to rub elbows with the bureaucrats. 

It wasn't easy to keep from snapping back a defensive retort. Stephens was exhausted from a long night, and as far as he was concerned, too many people were taking potshots at the commissioner already. He didn't need more flak from a transfer who had never even met him. But then again, he knew from personal experience that no one liked to work with a kissass who ran to the boss every time something happened. Bullock just hadn't been there long enough to know how things rolled. 

"We've worked together a long time." When the elevator stopped on the top floor, they began making their way through the rows of desks. As they passed one of the desks, Stephens spoke louder, directing his comment to the blue-shirted officer seated there typing a report. "Gordon has been on the force for years and years and years. He's an _old_ man." 

"Not so old that he won't come after you if he hears you," the sergeant replied, not taking his eyes off his computer screen. 

"Detective Harvey Bullock, this is Sergeant Jackson Davies. The Sarge is our go-to man around here. If you need it, he can probably hook you up with it. Bullock here is our transfer from the 43rd." 

The two men exchanged pleasantries briefly before the officer turned back to Stephens. "Don't be teaching the new guy any of your bad habits." 

"I don't know what you're talking about. I am a model employee." His remark managed to get varying degrees of scoffed laughter from around the room. "Ignore them. I'm loved and valued by my coworkers. C'mon, we'll come back through later for proper introductions. The sooner we go see the big man, the sooner we can move our day along and get out of here." 

Bullock quickly moved to follow his guide through the sea of cramped desks. He had heard about the explosion in the building that housed the Major Crimes Unit. Everyone had heard. It was hard to miss a face-painted whackjob rampaging through the city. But he hadn't realized that months later there would still be so much lingering disorder from the clown's actions. 

"It's like a can of sardines in here." 

"Inspectors declared the MCU structurally unsound after the explosion, even in the areas that weren't damaged by the blast... some bullshit about unsafe working conditions. So now we get to be real cozy and friendly with the men and women here at HQ." He came to a stop at a pair of desks that had been pushed together under a window. Both were filled to capacity with case files, burying a telephone, a laptop, and all but the monitor of a PC. "This is you and me. Sorry about the mess. I had to pull a bunch of cases, and I haven't had time to get them in order yet. We'll find your desk, though, I promise." 

"Yeah, well, I guess it's good that I didn't bring any of my stuff with me today." Bullock turned the top file around so that he could read the label. _Floyd Lawton_. With a small grunt of indifference, he put the file back as he'd found it. "Why didn't they separate you guys a little more evenly around the nearby precincts?" 

"The MCU is still a pretty new department, and the brass is still trying to work out the kinks in how they want us to operate," Stephens replied, trying very hard to be tactful. _'Because we work for Jim, and he's here now'_ just wasn't a good answer. "But we don't expect to be in here too much longer. A little spit 'n polish, and then we'll be back home. They just gotta wait for the new budget money to afford a fresh coat of paint for the place. Once it's all fixed up, you'll be moving out of here with us." 

"That's great." It was impossible to work up any real enthusiasm as he looked around the room at all the chipper faces. Dayshifters were like an entirely different species – they were awake and perky; they smiled and waved at him as they passed; they didn't seem to need IV drips filled with coffee. The idea of being forced into becoming one of those drones set his mouth into an even deeper frown. Not even that was enough to discourage the dayshifters from offering him wide smiles. At least Stephens had the look about him of a man who worked long hours and didn't punch out just because the clock ticked over to five. His shirt wasn't neatly pressed, and the deep lines around his eyes and mouth said that Stephens took his work seriously. 

Making an effort to add something to the rather one-sided conversation, Bullock said, "It could be worse. Isn't the Commish usually supposed to be set up in City Hall? There would be smart-mouthed pencil-pushers everywhere there." 

"Don't remind me. Jim does have an office there, but I don't think he's ever even been in it. We played the furniture-shuffle game and set him up an office just over there." Stephens pointed to the end of the room where there was a woman seated at a single desk in front of an office. "He wanted to be closer to the action, so he stays here all day and only runs over to City Hall when he has to." 

"Just what everyone wants: a hands-on boss with his fingers in your pies." 

"Normally, you'd be right. About seven or eight years ago, I had this one captain who was all up in your business every day, wanting to know what was happening every moment. It's not like that – well, you'll see when you meet him. But first you have to meet the bloodhound." 

"The who?" 

Stephens waved him along as they started toward the office at the back of the squad room. "Stacy, darling! You're looking lovely today, how are things?" 

"Pretty slow, but he just got in. Is that the ten o'clock?" She pointed past Stephens to Bullock, a look of disapproval turning down her mouth. It might have been the fact that his tie was barely still knotted around his neck, or the mustard stain on his breast pocket, or the clinging aroma of stale cigarettes, but she clearly wasn't impressed by the new detective. "He's early. I'll see if the commissioner can make room to see him now." 

Bullock rolled back on his heels, less than subtly watching her ass as she got up to walk into the commissioner's office. "Wow. Not that I'm complaining about the view – nice legs – but don't you guys have one of those new-fangled intercom things?" 

"Jim's notorious for being away from his desk, usually with his head in a box of evidence. It's just easier to pop in and take a look. And besides, the legs aren't the only nice thing to watch while she's walking away. So long as you keep in mind that she may seem sweet and harmless, but she will _get_ you if you misbehave." His face was wide-eyed and warning as he shook his head silently, pressing a finger to his lips so that Bullock wouldn't ask any more questions. 

Both men jumped when she suddenly reappeared beside them. "The commissioner will see you now. Just keep in mind for the future that Commissioner Gordon keeps a very busy schedule and doesn't usually have the time to rearrange things to accommodate being almost an hour early." 

"Thank you, Stacy." He tried to be inconspicuous as he herded the other detective into the office. "You're a saint." 

"Patron saint of slackers, maybe." A slight smile broke through her stern expression, and she waved them inside. 

The office, converted out of what had formerly been a conference room, was a model of organized chaos. The majority of the free space was dominated by a leather couch pushed up against the wall facing into the squad room and a metal desk near the window looking out over the street below. It certainly wasn't what Bullock expected to find in the office of the Police Commissioner. Even his captain at the 43rd had a bigger room and a large wooden desk. Here, racks that looked like they'd been taken out of the store room were being used to house boxes of case files, reference guides, ledgers, maps, and the remains of multiple takeout containers. 

"Looking a little worse than usual in here, Jim." 

Gordon grimaced as he closed the folder he had been perusing. "I have a meeting with the accountants to go over the books again. We're going to have yet another argument over the definition of the word 'essential'. Rumor from the Hall is that there's still some slush money floating around that hasn't been promised to anyone yet, so we need a strong case for why we need it more than the fire department or a dozen other agencies. But you're not here to listen to me complain about office politics." 

When the commissioner turned his gaze on him, Bullock made a half-hearted effort to stand up a little straighter, and he adjusted his tie so that it was neater even if it still wasn't knotted properly. "Detective Harvey Bullock, reporting as ordered, sir." 

"Yes, it's good to meet you at last, Detective. We've been expecting you for a while now." Gordon rose and extended an arm to the chairs across from his desk in an invitation to sit. Stephens immediately dropped down into one chair with a grunt as pained joints protested at being jostled, but Bullock looked dubious as he slowly made his way over to sit. "Can I get either of you a coffee?" Gordon's mouth twisted into a wry grin as he amended, "At least, what passes as coffee around here." 

"No, thanks. I already had one this morning, and if I wanna get on this day-gig sleep cycle, then I'm gonna need to be exhausted enough to sleep tonight instead of staying up. I've been on third shift for over eight years." 

"I wouldn't be too concerned about that, Detective." Gordon's head tilted to the side as he continued evaluating the other man. "You look tired enough to hit the sack right now." 

"I just got off my last shift at the precinct this morning. I was told to report here this morning for _el grande_ tour and the paperwork song 'n dance. I didn't have time to go change, sorry 'bout that." 

"If you need some time, we can do this later." 

Stephens couldn't keep the amusement out of his voice as he said, "Aw, Stacy already gave us the 'you're a busy man' speech. That would take the wind right out of her well-meaning sails." 

While the two men shared a smile, Bullock was almost defensive in his reply. "I don't need no time. I can go however long you need me to; it just means you gotta put up with me wearing yesterday's shirt. Though if you don't mind my saying, I don't know what I did to deserve this. I was doin' good where I was. Here – I don't even _know_ what it is I'm supposed to be doing." 

"All right, let's talk about that first, then. I want you to know that this transfer wasn't meant as a punishment of any sort." Bullock snorted, expressing his disbelief but otherwise keeping quiet. "I fully plan to utilize you as the valuable resource, employee, and colleague that you are. And I'm sorry that this was sprung on you so suddenly; I would have preferred to give you more notice for you to put your affairs in order." 

"Permission to speak freely?" 

"This isn't the military, and I'm not some hard-nosed employer who feels threatened by the input of others. We're going to be working together closely, so I want to know what you think. Fire away." 

"I don't want this job." 

Stephens laughed abruptly and quickly tried to cover his mouth with one hand. "Sorry! But you gotta give him props for being honest." 

Gordon was also having trouble keeping a smile from his face as he leaned back in his chair. "No offense intended to either you or your record, Detective, but I didn't want to give you the job in the first place, so we're both on the same page at least." 

"Wait – if you didn't transfer me here, who the hell did?" 

"You weren't told?" Stephens looked at him in surprise. 

"Told what?" 

"Mayor Garcia personally selected you out of the entire police force to handle this assignment. Out of all the officers and detectives in Gotham, he thought that you would be the best for the job." Bullock's jaw dropped. Unless he was a much better actor than Gordon gave him credit for, he felt that the detective had honestly not known the details of his transfer before that moment. "What exactly were you told about this job?" 

"Just—" He mentally scrambled to recall any of the specifics that he had been told. Everything had been so vague; mostly they had bitched about how irritating it was when those up the chain decided to mess with those in rank and file. "My captain said that it was some sort of secret service detail, all JFK-style jumping on the car and shit." 

"The mayor is rightfully concerned about the life expectancy of public officials in this city being shorter than normal. He says that he wants me to have a couple of good men with me, but I don't expect you to be jumping in front of flying bullets or following me around all day. For the most part, you'll be doing exactly what you did at the 43rd. The only difference will be that when I go out on cases, one of the two of you will be at any crime scene I work." 

"You're the commissioner, you don't work scenes." The very idea of having an elected official tromping around one of his crime scenes made Bullock's stomach roll. 

"I may have been given a desk, Detective, but I'm no criminal law graduate elected in off the street. I've still got my badge, and I fully intend to remain involved in all cases associated with mob activity, serial nutjobs, and anything else noteworthy enough to catch the Batman's attention." 

"Speaking of nutjobs..." Bullock's voice lowered into an unpleasant growl. "Gotham's favorite flying rodent." 

"Ah, I take it you don't approve of the city's local color?" Stephens tried to gently interpose himself into the conversation to deflect any clashes on a delicate topic. He was well aware of Gordon's friendship with their nighttime 'consultant'. 

"He's a freak!" Bullock's expression said that he was surprised that he would even need to explain his position. "He's an unstable whacko in a cape. Complete with freaky little bat ears! I say, if he wanted to do something good for the city, he'd ditch the cape and get a real job like everyone else. Maybe in Internal Affairs; that's what we need. Good people, _sane_ people, on the inside fixin' stuff. Not crashing cars around on rooftops." 

"I can completely understand your point of view, and I agree, to a point. If this were anywhere else, I would agree with you, hands down, but things have gotten so bad in Gotham that I can't see any other way to bring it back except by going to extremes like this." 

"It's bad, but it ain't that bad." 

"During my first three months on the Force, I was beaten up three times by other cops. They were trying to send a message that my attitude towards upholding the law wasn't appreciated and that there was a status quo that they didn't want me disturbing. I hate to say that it's almost been two decades since then – I _really_ hate to say that..." He paused a moment to take off his glasses and rub at his eyes. It hurt to be reminded of how much time had been wasted before he was finally able to start making a difference. "We're only starting to put a dent in the surface of the crime that goes on in this town. Batman's presence, at this point, is not negotiable. He has agreed to cooperate with our ongoing investigations, and you're not to interfere with his. And unless the mayor says otherwise, that's the way it's going to be until we have the crime in this city under control." 

Bullock's face was turned down in a sour frown, but he knew better than to question a direct order. "I'm still confused about what it is that I'm supposed to be doing here." 

"Garcia thinks I need some extra protection, but I'm not willing to have an invasive presence in my life. He said that one of you needs to be present during cases, fine. And I'm sure you'll both be glad to hear that I have no plan to work nine to five. Crimes happen at night as well as over brunch. I didn't get this job because I give good motivational speeches to the press or am any good at accounting. I'll be in from late in the morning through the first part of the night shift. If someone needs to fetch me for an emergency – for _any_ reason – it'll be one of the two of you. I want you both in the loop on all hot cases the MCU is working. We're not going to be caught with our pants down again. You're detectives – and that's what I expect from both of you. There's fifty years of combined experience in this room, and we're going to use that to figure out how to stop the rising rates of crime in this city." 

"I'll work any case you want; I'll help train up this new detective you're sticking me with; I'll even watch your back while you're on this quest to save the city. But I ain't gonna help the Bat do my job for me." Bullock crossed his arms firmly across his chest. "You can either transfer me right back to where I was, fire me, or deal with it. I do my job, and I do it well." 

"Yes, I know. I've done some checking of my own into your record." Which was a bit of an understatement. Since Garcia had told him that Bullock was being moved to his detail, Gordon had pulled every file that he could find on the man. "You do have a very impressive arrest record, even if there has been some question about your methods." 

"I don't know who you've been talkin' to, but I ain't done nothin' wrong. All of my arrests have been completely legit, and I don't just let people go like some of the clowns I've worked with." 

"I'm not saying that you have. Even though you have a few non-punitive warnings from your supervisors about excessive force in handling perps, you're honest and hard working. The mayor wants us to try this out, even if neither of us is particularly interested in it. I suggest we try it for a while, and if you're still unhappy with the situation, we can re-evaluate at that time." 

"I suppose..." 

"How about for now, Gerry can show you around the building and introduce you to the officers you'll be working with. Afterwards, the two of you can take the day off and come back this evening." 

"You don't want us here today? I told you I don't need to take a rest; I can keep going." 

"Are you kidding?" Stephens stood and slapped a hand on his new partner's shoulder. "No one sane works mornings around here. You and me are part of the graveyard shift! Besides, all the really fun stuff in Gotham happens at night, anyway."

*****


	7. Chapter 7

~December 19~

For the fourth time that evening, Gordon yanked at the knot in his tie while giving his image in the mirror a disgusted look. He wore a suit and tie to work every day; there was no reason that he should have to wear one on his day off – especially not to an event purporting to be a 'party'. It didn't help matters any that the thin strip of black cloth was refusing to cooperate with him. 

"How is it that I managed to get ready first?" asked Barbara as she stood in the doorway between their bedroom and the bathroom. Her face softened affectionately as she watched him continue to struggle with the tie that remained uneven and lopsided. "It's not like you to drag your feet unless you really don't want to do something. I thought you used to like going to these things." 

"It never used to matter if or when I went or how I looked. Now I've got the mayor dropping off friendly reminders in my office about how especially important this year is to the department. As if I didn't already know how broke we are." Gordon finally gave up and let the ends hang loose around his neck. "Think anyone will notice if I just go like this?" 

A mischievous smile was leveled at him as Barbara walked forward to take hold of the lapels of his jacket. " _I_ think you look very sexy that way, Commissioner Gordon, but I doubt the mayor will agree with me." 

"It's just as well, then." Gordon tilted his head down to kiss her softly. "I don't want Garcia agreeing with you on that point." 

Slipping her hands under his jacket, Barbara held him close and pressed her lips just below his ear. "You know," she whispered softly, "we could always stay home tonight. It's not as if attendance is actually mandatory." 

The offer was as surprising as it was intriguing. "You don't want to go?" 

"No, I just think it would be more fun to stay in for once. We never have any time alone together anymore. Besides, I don't think it's a good idea to leave the kids by themselves." 

It was disappointing to hear the real reason behind her desire to stay at home, but Gordon didn't let it show. Cupping her face between his hands, he pulled her in for another kiss, this one slow and lingering. "As nice as it would be to stay home tonight, I would never hear the end of it come Monday." 

Releasing a long-suffering sigh, Barbara reached up and began re-tying the black bowtie for him. "I had to marry a workaholic." 

"Just keep telling yourself 'It's not work; it's a party'," he replied in a bitter tone. Despite having repeated the same thing over and over to himself all evening, it hadn't helped in the slightest to make him feel any better about his lost evening in a monkey-suit. The back of Gordon's hand brushed down along her throat as she fixed his tie for him. "I love you, Barbara." 

"I know you do. Now, don't touch that." She slapped his hand away as he made to tug at his collar. "You look very handsome. We should get going before I change my mind about letting you leave the house." 

Collecting his keys from atop the dresser, he made a sweeping gesture towards the door. "After you, then, Madam." 

"Careful, buster." She reached under his jacket once more, this time snapping one of the straps of his suspenders before making for the door. 

The drive from their home on the south side of the city to the Scottish Rite building was not a long one, but the recent snow from the night before was causing traffic to move more cautiously. The annual Policeman's Ball and Christmas Party had been held in the same place for nearly ten years, so he had no trouble navigating the slushy side streets in order to find parking. In recent years, the event had been made more politically correct by labeling it as a "winter gathering" instead, even though the punch was still red and green, and colored lights were strung around the main ballrooms. Frankly, Gordon was surprised that they still got away with calling it a 'policeman's ball'. It wouldn't be long before some activist group had that changed as well, he thought as he pulled the collar of his coat closed more tightly against the wind. 

As they rounded the corner to go up the steps into the building, they passed a large sign covered in tinsel and blinking lights, announcing, "Support the GCMCU and the local FOP with a donation today!" The Policeman's Ball had always been a fundraising event with sponsors from around the city coming out for a night to mingle and dine with the officers of the Gotham City Police Department and their families. This year was especially important in order to raise enough funds to get the MCU back up to code so that he could move his men out of Headquarters where they had been forced to temporarily set up shop. Space was tight as it was without their intrusion, and tensions were starting to run high between the two groups. 

"Evening, Ted," he said pleasantly to the young officer who had been volunteered to act as ticket taker for the event. "I hope we're not too late?" 

The young man offered a warm, lopsided smile to both the commissioner and his wife. "No, sir. The mayor only showed up about fifteen minutes ago, tops. He can't have circulated the floor yet. You should still be able to sneak in, no problem." 

After handing over their tickets, Gordon slipped his arm through Barbara's to pull her closer to his side. "Thanks for the tip. You keep warm out here, and try to have some fun tonight, too." 

"I will, thanks. And here, you should keep these." The officer handed back their ticket stubs. "Rumor has it that the door prizes don't completely suck this year. Have a good evening." 

They had barely made it away from the coat check before Mayor Garcia managed to locate them. Gordon found himself being pulled away from his wife's side to be trotted around in front of potential backers. It gave Gordon a whole new appreciation of and sympathy for trophy wives. On the other hand, Barbara had managed a graceful exit to join a group of her friends chatting near the punchbowl. As he was asked over and over how the department was doing, he found himself growing increasingly jealous of her good fortune. 

When Garcia finally turned his back in order to greet another potential patron, Gordon managed to slip away into the crowd. Across the main ballroom floor, he spotted Cornwell leaving the bar with an armload of beers. The lieutenant was moving stealthily towards a back corner where Stephens was positioned slightly to the rear of a large, garishly-trimmed potted tree. He didn't consider it 'hiding' so much as moving to join his comrades in their strategic location from which to observe the main floor of the gathering, or so he told himself. 

"Jim! Congratulations on your daring escape." Stephens grinned at his friend and inched over to make room for one more behind the tree. "We were just debating if we were going to have to initiate a search and rescue operation." 

"If he manages to find me again, there'll be a raise in it for the one of you that can create an excuse to get me out of here." 

"How big a raise are we talking?" Cornwell extended the bottles to his coworkers. "I could always go find him preemptively and dump one of these beers down his front. If he has to go home and change, he can't bother you." 

"And on that note, I think you've had enough to drink." Gordon reached out to confiscate one of the lieutenant's bottle and took a healthy swig from it. 

"Careful, sir! Those are ten bucks a pop. And they're not even imported." 

Gordon shrugged helplessly. "It is a fundraiser, after all." 

That sort of logic wasn't about to stop the lieutenant from bemoaning the thinness of his wallet. "Hey, unless my funds can get a raise, too, I can't afford to pay for stuff like this. Hey, I know! Boss, now that you have swing with what goes on, you should tell the Powers That Be that we should get discounts for being hard-working keepers of the peace." 

"Aren't you on duty tonight, anyway?" Gordon's tone was accusatory, though he had no intention of doing more than poking fun at the young officer. "You don't need to be drinking in the first place." 

Cornwell's expression fell, and he held his drink a little closer. "Yeah, I have to get back to the station fairly soon. Bullock volunteered to come in and help me go through some cold case files. He's probably already there by now being an overachiever." 

That surprised the commissioner. In the weeks since his transfer, Gordon hadn't had much need to interact with their new detective, although he had made a point of speaking with him as often as possible. The fact that he was temporarily partnered with Stephens made it easier to have excuses to run into the surly officer. The notations in his file about his attitude were all turning out to be fairly accurate, but as far as he could tell, Bullock was a hard worker and a good cop. "Things not working out with him?" 

"Nothing too serious. He's a bit of a humbug." Cornwell hesitated a moment to decide how best to describe their newest detective. "I guess he's a pretty good guy. I feel bad for Montoya, though; they'll fight like cats and dogs when she gets back. Aside from him being an ass, and the whole part where he doesn't even try to play nicely with others, yeah, he's fine. No problems." 

"I like the way he gives Dave shit for being in charge at half his age." While he was happy to take the excuse to tease his friend, Stephens knew that Gordon trusted them enough to speak up if there were a real problem. 

"Yeah, he'll probably have an earful for me when I get in," Cornwell added morosely as he swirled the suds around at the bottom of his bottle. "I'm only staying here long enough to sample the food and to give the old lady a turn or two on the dance floor before getting back to serving and protecting." 

"Thinking of your wife – how did you get out of the house like that?" Gordon gestured at Cornwell with the butt of his own bottle, trying to keep a straight face. Everyone else at the event was either in a suit or a tuxedo. The lieutenant was wearing a bright red button-down covered in tiny images of Santa Clause, each sporting a Hawaiian shirt. The Rudolph necktie he wore was even tackier. 

Unable to contain himself, Stephens laughed loudly and slapped Cornwell on the back. "He wasn't 'let out'. His wife dressed him that way – on purpose!" 

"I'm told that it's full of 'Christmas spirit'," Cornwell stated flatly, shooting a hateful look at his coworker. In response, Stephens reached out and squeezed his tie. Rudolph's nose lit up and weak, thready music began to play. "There are some battles you fight and others where you say, 'Yes honey, I love that tie. Thank you.'" 

Gordon coughed into his hand and forced himself to say in an even tone, "This was one of the fighters, Dave." 

"Oh, I have a change of clothes in the car. There's no way that I'm going to HQ dressed like this. They give us enough grief as it is. I can't _wait_ until we're out of there." 

In a slightly scolding tone, Gordon said, "Remember that we're guests there. Try to play nicely with the other children, Cornwell." 

"I do! It's just–" Quickly changing the topic, Cornwell asked, "When they finally get the MCU fixed up so that we can all move back home, you're coming with us, aren't you, Boss?" 

Stephens snorted and took a swig of his beer to cover any further laughter at his friend's expense. "Jim's lucky the mayor ain't already plunked his ass down in City Hall like the political bureaucrat he is now." 

"I think that I'm going to be staying at HQ. There'll be fewer chances for people to try to say that I'm biased towards one precinct or another that way, though I'll probably set up an office at the MCU and move between them. Maybe spend days at HQ and third shift at the MCU." Tugging on the collar of his shirt, Gordon let out a tired sigh. "Have these things always been so dull, or am I just getting old?" 

"Things are always a little bit worse when you're in charge." 

"And you're old," Cornwell added helpfully with a smile. 

Leaning forward, Gordon cupped one hand to his ear. "What was that, _Sergeant_? You said you wanted to be transferred to traffic? We'll sure miss you." 

"Thinking of people missed..." Cornwell made yet another attempt to change the topic from himself. "There don't seem to be nearly as many people here as last year. Bad economy and bad weather keeping people inside?" 

Both of the older men sobered quickly, their jovial expressions turning somber. Stephens gave a soft sigh and said, "Yeah, that's probably it. It's hard enough making the ends meet in December without being expected to walk past one of those tables where the vultures ask for a donation." 

Gordon deliberated a moment. He hadn't told anyone else about Ramirez's part in the kidnapping of his family or anything else. The only thing that had been disclosed was that she had gotten in trouble with the mob over money owed to her mother's hospital, and for that reason, she had been forced to help Maroni's men find Rachel. She had been brought up on charges of accessory to kidnapping, and as far as anyone else at the station was concerned, even that was excessive since she had given them the information needed to bring down several of Maroni's men. Not even Stephens was aware that he had been the one to supply her with that information. 

"I had an opportunity to see Anna a couple of days ago," he admitted, knowing that the other two would want to know how she had been. 

"You did? Why didn't you say anything about it before?" 

"It's been crazy; you know how it is this time of year. Garcia won't leave me alone for two minutes without breathing down my neck about something." 

"How is she?" 

"She's well. Doing much better than she expected to be, actually. They agreed to plead her case down to three to five, minimum security. Hell, they have cable in there." 

Stephens' face perked back up somewhat. "That's great. With good behavior, she'll be out of there in no time." 

A cold lump started to form in his stomach. Lying, even stretching the truth, was too stressful even if he was becoming disturbingly good at it. Maybe he really was getting old. "She's luckier than others were." 

Cornwell lifted his beer and said softly, "To absent friends." 

The other two men raised their bottles as well and clanked them together before letting a moment of silence settle between them. 

*****

When the Gotham Rite came into view down the block, Wayne was both grateful and disappointed that the media wasn't outside the building. While he didn't want to be hassled about why he was there, it was going to be more difficult for the department to round up supporters without news coverage. But then, the event was already well underway. With any luck, the reporters had already come and gone rather than not having found the event noteworthy enough to show up at all. 

Personally, Wayne wasn't interested in it either, but he did hope that he could use the event as an opportunity to meet one man in particular. As Batman, it was impossible for him to socialize with Gordon; unfortunately, he had a feeling that it would be only slightly less bizarre for Bruce Wayne to suddenly take an interest in the newly elected police commissioner. Wayne had deliberated for a long time before finally putting the kevlar away for the night in favor of a tuxedo. He was banking on it not being too out of place to interact with Gordon now that he was in a political position. Wayne often circulated with Congressmen and dined with council members, so maybe, he hoped, this wouldn't be considered too out of the ordinary. 

As the limo slowed to a stop in front of the building, Wayne's driver lowered the glass divider between them. "I don't know if it's such a good idea to leave you alone in an area like this, Mr Wayne. Are you _certain_ you want me to drop you off here for the night?" 

Even with just the dim washed-out street lights, Wayne could clearly make out the logos of no less than three different gangs on the walls of the neighboring buildings. Gotham Port was only a few miles away, and directly between the Rite building and the docks were blocks of slums filled with the walks of life that were typically associated with them. While none of that disturbed Wayne in the slightest, it was touching that the other man was concerned for his employer's safety. 

"I don't actually plan on being out that long; I just don't know when I'm leaving. Maybe an hour or two, maybe fifteen minutes, I'm not sure. I can find my own way back afterwards." 

"Even so, sir, I would feel more comfortable waiting for you and making sure that you have a reliable means of returning home." He pointed down the street in the opposite direction of the Rite. "There's a parking garage a few blocks down. I can wait for you there if you'd like." 

Wayne wanted to tell him that he was perfectly capable of getting home on his own, but as he'd worked so hard to create a persona of being both brash and irresponsible, it was probably best to accept the man's offer with grace. "That's good of you, Sebastian, thank you. And I promise to call from inside the building when I'm ready to leave. Nowhere safer than a building full of cops, right?" 

"If you say so, sir." 

"All right. I'll call you in about an hour." He flipped up the collar of his coat before stepping from the limo and was surprised to find that without the biting wind from earlier that evening, it had become almost a pleasant out. With a smile already on his face, Wayne made his way up the steps and into the building. It was hard not to laugh at the poorly decorated sign out front and the very unfortunate acronym that the Fraternal Order of Police had to put up with. 

In the atrium, a man a few years younger than Wayne sat at a folding table picking at a paper plate filled with cheese, crackers, and Vienna sausages. As Wayne walked up, the ticket taker looked up curiously to see who the latecomer was only to choke on the bite he had taken when he realized who was standing in front of him. Quickly washing down the offending cracker with a swig of bright green punch, he did his best not to stutter as he asked Wayne for his ticket. 

"You see, Officer...?" He waited expectantly, leaning casually against the edge of the table. 

"Nielson, sir," the young man supplied in a nervous tone. "Ted Nielson." 

"Ted. A pleasure to meet you, Ted. Bruce Wayne." He removed his gloves and reached out to take the stunned officer's hand in a firm shake. "The problem is, Ted, I don't actually have a ticket." 

"Oh. Are you here with someone, then?" Ted couldn't imagine anyone in the department going out with a man like Bruce Wayne. Billionaires dated supermodels not real people. As soon as he'd said it, he wanted to slap a hand over his face. Or sink through the floorboards. 

_If only,_ Wayne thought wishfully. "Actually, I had just planned on party-crashing the event." 

"Oh..." Nielson stammered for a moment, trying to find the most diplomatic way to say that it technically wasn't allowed for him to be there without an invitation or a ticket. 

Wayne let him fumble for a moment before taking pity on him. Pointing to a roll of red tickets, he suggested, "I suppose that you could sell me one if you think that would be better." 

"Right! Yes. I can— It's $40 for a single admission, sir." 

Already hunting through his wallet, Wayne pulled out a hundred dollar bill and held it out to the officer. "Keep the change. You can put it towards the evening's fundraiser." 

"Thank you, sir! And here..." He ripped three tickets in half and handed the stubs over. "They haven't pulled the winners of the door prizes yet. I hear they're nice this year." 

Wayne had no idea what a young policeman would think was a 'nice' door prize. Regardless, he smiled warmly at Nielson and thanked him as he put the stubs in the pocket of his trousers. 

"Have a good evening, sir." 

"You, too. And thanks." As he turned to follow the hall down to the coat check, Wayne could already see the mayor hurrying in his direction. It was impressive to think that someone had already spotted him when he had barely made it in the front doors. Drawing in a deep breath, he attempted to mentally prepare himself before Garcia could reach him. Once the mayor was close enough that he didn't have to raise his voice to be heard, Wayne offered him a greeting. 

"Anthony, so nice to see you again. Your cops really are an observant bunch." He held out a hand to shake the mayor's. "I haven't even gotten my coat off yet." 

For his part, Garcia gave a hearty laugh at what he assumed to be a joke. "That's what we pay them for, after all, to be diligent. I have to say, though, that I was quite surprised to hear that you had come to join us. Are you here with one of our fine officers?" 

"Not at all." Bruce slapped a hand on the mayor's back before leading them away from the foyer so that he could exchange his long, black coat for another ticket stub at the cloakroom. "I just can't say 'no' to a good party." 

While many of the important city officials were present, it wasn't exactly the sort of ritzy event that Bruce Wayne usually attended. Even so, Garcia wasn't about to object to the wealthiest man on the East Coast attending their fundraiser. "If there's anything I can do to make your time here more enjoyable, just let me know," he said emphatically, placing a hand on Wayne's back as he steered him into the main ballroom. 

"Actually, there is one thing. It would mean a lot to me." 

Garcia's curiosity was peeked. There were few things within reason that he wouldn't do to collect a favor from Bruce Wayne, especially just before leading him towards the donation table. "If it's something that I can do for you, I'd be more than happy to." 

"It might sound a little silly, but there's someone that I've really been wanting to meet for a long time..." 

*****

When Gordon returned to their observation post behind the potted 'Winter Holiday' tree, he handed a fresh beer to Stephens and a Dixie cup filled with punch to the pouting lieutenant. "Don't look so sad, Dave. It has pineapple chunks in it, and I made sure they scooped some extra sherbet just for you." 

"I can't tell you how thrilled that makes me." Cornwell reached out to take his drink with a sour expression that quickly brightened. "Oh! Hey, Stephens, tell him about the thing." 

"What thing?" Gordon's gaze turned to his friend curiously. Even more curious was when Stephens kicked the other officer's foot with a less than subtle intent of shutting him up. 

"He doesn't want to, so let it drop." 

"Doesn't want what?" He looked from one man to the other, trying to think of what it was that he was missing. 

Cornwell turned to face Stephens, completely ignoring the fact that Gordon still had no idea what they were talking about. "Yeah, but _you_ haven't tried asking him yet. He mighta thought that we weren't serious, you know, just asking the boss along 'cause he's the boss." 

"Oh, that." Gordon rolled his eyes once he worked out what they were talking about. "The bowling league thing, right?" 

"A couple of us thought that it would be fun to get together after work, have some brew, and just generally rejoice about being away from our desks." 

Stephens nodded in full agreement. "There is absolutely nothing league-worthy about this idea. But you could do to get out more, too, Jim." 

"Yeah, it's not healthy to put in an eighty-hour week without having a little fun thrown in there." 

Trying to sound stern, Gordon asked, "What makes you two so certain that I don't have fun?" 

The two men stared back at him in disbelief for a moment. "It'll be great, Boss. Bring the wife and let her win a few frames. You'll have a few beers, she'll have a good time, which means that you'll have a good time later. It's a total win-win." 

Stephens swatted the younger man upside the head for his remark. "Seriously, Jim, we'd like for you to come, but we also understand that you don't have a lot of free time anymore." 

"It's not that I'm not interested in doing something after work, but I haven't been bowling in at least ten years. And even then, my average was somewhere around eighty." 

Trying not to laugh out loud, Cornwell asked, "What, you think we're any good? Like we said, it ain't no tournament kind of a thing. Just some of us having fun together away from our computer screens and our houses. Actually going _out_ , if you can imagine such a crazy idea." 

"Out. I almost remember what that's like." Raising his hands in surrender, Gordon conceded. "All right, fine. I'll ask Barbara if she's up for it." 

"Shit... Hey, Jim, take a look at that." Stephens pointed past Gordon's shoulder, and the commissioner turned to look. In the crowd, he could just make out the mayor's head moving their way. 

"Shit!" He didn't have time to duck and cover before Garcia was standing beside them. Even if he could have gotten more of a warning, Gordon wasn't sure that he would have been able to move. The sight of Bruce Wayne following along dutifully behind the mayor had pinned him to the spot with shock. 

"Mr Wayne, this is Lieutenant Cornwell, the second shift commander of our Major Crimes Unit," Garcia said, wasting no time in making introductions. The young officer's jaw dropped slightly, but when Gordon nudged him, he reached out politely to shake Wayne's hand. "And this is Detective Stephens, also with the MCU. I believe you already know Commissioner Gordon." 

"Of course, Commissioner, it's a real pleasure to see you again." Wayne was all smiles as he shook first Stephen's then Gordon's hand. "We didn't exactly meet on the best of terms last time." 

"Not exactly, no." Gordon shot a questioning look past Wayne at the mayor, but Garcia only shrugged with a bewildered expression. 

An easy smile slid back onto his face as Garcia clapped Wayne on the back in a friendly gesture. "Well, Gordon, I trust that I can leave my friend here in your capable hands. Introduce him to a few people and show him a good time." 

The officers looked mortified by the idea, but Gordon understood the hidden message: keep the rich man happy and make sure he doesn't leave without making a donation. Politicians were only slightly more difficult to understand than criminals, most likely because of their close relationship to each other. And now he was one, too. A sour taste spread through Gordon's mouth at the thought, but he managed an amiable enough smile in return. "Of course. Happy to." 

Garcia caught the note of frustrated disappointment in Gordon's voice, but fortunately, Wayne didn't seem to notice. He continued to stand there smiling pleasantly as Garcia shot a warning stare at the Commissioner before turning to meld back into the crowd. There was some awkward shuffling from the other officers before Stevens valiantly tried to come to the aid of his friend. "So... have you been well, Mr Wayne? I'd heard that you were in a car accident a couple of months ago." 

"Oh, I'm fine. Can't say the same for the Lamborghini, but I escaped mostly unscathed." He rubbed the back of his neck as he recalled the incident. "I was a little sore for a few days, but I guess that's what happens when your car door meets the grill of a giant truck." 

Cornwell looked visibly pained by Wayne's words. "Lamborghini?" he asked weakly. 

"Yeah, a 2007 Murcielago. I really liked that car." 

Cornwell gave a whimper of sympathy, which got him curious stares from his two colleagues. "What? It's four hundred thousand dollars of metallic sexiness, _crunched_. You have to mourn the passing of such perfection." 

"You collect cars?" Wayne brightened, hopeful to have found a mutually appreciated topic. 

"Collect, no, unless you count Hot Wheels, but I like looking at them should I ever win the lotto, you know? Or maybe you don't. Did you get the damage fixed or was it totaled?" 

"Fixed?" The idea had clearly never crossed his mind. "No, I upgraded it for a newer model. Since I already had the 2005 Murcielago roadster, I decided to get a Ferrari Spyder. I don't know, though. I don't think I like it as much as the 640." 

"You should have gone for the Saleen S7." 

"You think so? Have you ever _seen_ it? You could easily injure yourself on those door panels if you stumbled into them. The Lamborghini is sleeker, much nicer looking. And the doors flip up, which is really cool." 

"Maybe, but the S7 is an amazing machine. It's faster than the Lambo, has more than a hundred extra horsepower, and is only marginally more expensive." 

Stephens was staring at his friend openly now. "You've really got this whole early-retirement lotto-winning gig planned out, don't you?" 

"You should see the beach house I'm eyeing," Cornwell returned, clinking his cup against the other man's beer bottle. 

"If retirement is your plan, then you want a Bentley. The Arnage RL comes with a cocktail cabinet in the back, and if you buy locally from Vernon Hastings, there will always be a chilled bottle of Dom Perignon waiting on ice for you. I have his number somewhere if you– " 

"No, that's okay!" Cornwell jumped in to stop him from looking for the dealer's business card. 

"I think Dave's still got a few good years left in him before the beach house scene," Stephens said in a tone which he managed to keep polite despite his deep sorrow for having opened his mouth in the first place. 

"Besides, my wife would kill me if I spent any more money." 

"My accountant's been making the same veiled threats. He says I need to be more fiscally conservative in the current economic times." Wayne's tone said that he disagreed. 

The lieutenant nodded slowly, looking around him for an excuse to slip off. "Yeah, don't ya hate it when that happens?" 

"I find the best way to bounce back from an over-ambitious quarter is just to keep spending. You should keep that in mind. Investing in the proper places will always return your losses and then some, if done properly." 

"Numbers are funny that way, aren't they? Hey listen, it was nice to meet you, Mr Wayne, but I ought to go hunt up the little woman. Hopefully, I'll see you around." Cornwell shook his hand again before slipping off into the crowd of people. 

Gordon watched him go with envy. Taking pity on his friend, he made a subtle motion to Stephens, implying that he could sneak away also if he wanted. "So, Mr Wayne, what brings you here today?" he asked, drawing the billionaire over to his side so that Stephens could casually wander off, which he wasted no time in doing. 

"I suppose partly because I wanted to see you." He grinned at the look of surprise that crossed Gordon's face. "I never got the chance to congratulate you the last time we spoke." 

Having met Wayne only twice before, Gordon couldn't think of any reason that the other man would want to talk to him, let alone to congratulate him for anything. "For what?" 

"Your promotion. That and the fact that you're still alive, which is a very impressive trick considering that your obituary was in the paper." 

"I seem to recall hearing that you were declared dead not that long ago as well. It's best not to trust everything you read." 

"Quite right." 

Gordon could have kissed his wife when he saw her staring at them from the edge of the crowd that had begun to form. She was the perfect distraction to what was most definitely an awkward conversation. "I don't think you've had a chance to meet my wife yet, have you Mr Wayne?" 

Both of them knew that he hadn't, but Wayne didn't comment on the non sequitur. "I can't say that I have," he replied, following dutifully behind as Gordon led him the short distance to where Barbara was. 

"Mr Wayne, this is my wife, Barbara." He wrapped an arm around his wife's waist, giving her a grateful squeeze. 

"It's a pleasure to meet you." 

A dazzling smile was sent in her direction, and Barbara looked to her husband for any sort of a clue. Receiving none, she politely took his hand instead. "Do, uh, do you know Jim well?" 

"Not intimately, no, but I have known him most of my life. Or _of_ him, rather." His response only confused Barbara further, though Gordon seemed to look at him in a different light. "But I hope to change that. Your husband's a good man and has brought a lot of improvements to Gotham over the last couple of years. I hope that he'll be commissioner for a long time and continue the trend." 

Barbara's mouth hardened into a forced smile. "Well, it was nice to meet you. Have a pleasant evening, Mr Wayne. Jim." She gave her husband a kiss on the cheek before extracting herself from his hold and going back to join the group of wives she'd been speaking with previously, all of whom were staring open-mouthed at Wayne. As soon as Barbara rejoined them, she was immediately pounced upon with low-whispered demands for all the details about what had just transpired. 

"That was... awkward." Wayne offered the ladies a polite smile before turning back to Gordon. "Wrong thing to say?" 

"Barbara doesn't share your enthusiastic sentiments." 

"What, she doesn't think that you're a good man?" 

Gordon gave a small laugh and shook his head. "It's more that she doesn't want me to be the commissioner. She'd prefer it if we moved out of Gotham." 

"And you wouldn't?" 

"Gotham's my home, for better or worse." 

"Then let's hope it gets better." 

"I'm open to any suggestions you might have." 

"I have a few, but no one really cares what I think on the matter." 

That got a scoff of disbelief from Gordon. "When Bruce Wayne speaks in Gotham, things got done. Entire ballet troupes go on cruises instead of performing. People may not be asking you directly, but they would certainly be listening if you spoke." 

Wayne's head tipped to the side in a contemplative moment of silence. "What would you do differently if you could?" 

"I'd stop slashing budgets for starters," Gordon grumbled under his breath. 

"That's it? It's all just a matter of money?" 

"Wayne, _everything_ in politics is a matter of money. There's only so much of it to go around, and everyone wants a piece of it." 

"That's easy enough, then." 

Gordon started to laugh again, until he noticed that Wayne was walking away from him. He was moving with purpose through the crowd towards the front of the hall to a small stage where the rented entertainment was playing jazzy remixes of generic Christmas music. Swearing softly, Gordon couldn't decide whether he should hurry after his charge or slink away and pray nothing terrible happened. From the look of things, though, 'terrible' seemed to be the order of the day. Wayne climbed up onto the stage, whispered something to the DJ, and the music came to a stop. A murmur rippled through the crowd, and there stood Bruce Wayne, being stared at by hundreds of police officers. 

"Sorry to interrupt the fun, ladies and gentlemen. I'll be brief and let you get back to having a good time. I just wanted to take the opportunity to say a few words." 

The mayor was standing at Gordon's elbow again, as if transported by magic. "What the hell is he doing?" 

"I have no idea." 

"Thirty years ago, Gotham was in the middle of a long and difficult depression. Everyone could feel the pressure from it. Today, things might not be perfect, but thanks to the hard work of the men and women of the Gotham City Police Department, our streets are cleaner and safer than they have been in decades. And I thank you for that. All your hard work and sacrifice is truly appreciated. I would also like to say a special thanks to Commissioner Gordon for all that he's done for Gotham." 

As the room actually started applauding along with Wayne, Gordon felt even more like sinking inconspicuously through the floorboards. Barbara was going to kill him later if the mayor didn't get him first. 

"To show my appreciation for your efforts in a way more meaningful than words, the Wayne Foundation is going to match dollar-for-dollar whatever you pull in here tonight as a donation to the MCU fund. So if you have any loose change, now's the time to spend it. Thank you all, and happy holidays." 

Both Gordon and Garcia's jaws dropped, as did many others' around the room, as Wayne made his way through the crowd back towards where they stood. Along the way, he stopped and shook hands with several of Gotham's rich and powerful. When he finally made it to his goal, his checkbook was already in hand. "You can fill in the 'pay to' portion with whatever is supposed to go there," he said, handing the check to Gordon. 

Gordon nearly choked when he saw the number $10,000,000 staring back up at him. "You, uh, you might want to wait before writing this out. I don't think we're going to quite draw in that much. Like you said, times are hard for everyone right now." 

"It doesn't matter; that's a personal check. The Wayne Foundation will match whatever you draw in, including that. I'd give more, but as I said earlier, my personal assets are a little tied up right now. I've decided to expand into a few new fields." 

Garcia took the check from Gordon and mirrored the commissioner's reaction. "This– This is more than generous, Mr Wayne. Let's go take care of this and make sure that it ends up in the proper place. With a donation of this size, we should also talk about specifics on how you'd like it spent." Garcia put an arm around Wayne's shoulders and began leading him away. "Patrons often pick a particular event or item they would like their funds to go towards. Do you have any sort of stipulations attached to this?" 

As he was dragged away, Wayne turned pleading eyes on the commissioner, hoping for any excuse not to go. Despite knowing that he'd brought his fate upon himself, Gordon couldn't help feeling sorry for the man's predicament. But his loss was Gordon's gain. Garcia would likely be occupied for some time, giving him a chance to pick a new spot from which he could observe the evening's proceedings undisturbed. The idea of Wayne being afraid of a political shark like Garcia struck him as incredibly amusing, and Gordon found himself smiling as he turned to make his way through the crowd to get a drink stronger than the punch. He couldn't decide if the enigmatic young businessman had hidden layers that hadn't yet been identified, or if it was simply wishful thinking on his part that the son of Thomas and Martha Wayne wasn't the complete idiot that he so often seemed to be. 

*****

The evening continued at what felt like a crawl. Gordon and several others from the department had gotten up to make speeches about particularly outstanding officers or to offer words of condolences to the families of those that had fallen in the line of duty. Watches were given out to those retiring, plaques were handed out to those few with exemplary records, and a new class of graduates from the academy was welcomed to the force. 

As soon as his part in the speechmaking was over, Gordon excused himself to get some air. A pair of sliding glass doors led from the main ballroom to a terrace adjoining a small courtyard behind the building, and luckily the cold weather seemed to be keeping the other party-goers from braving the outdoors. Pulling the front of his jacket tighter around himself, Gordon took another sip of his drink in hopes that the alcohol would warm him. 

His solitude only lasted a few minutes, however. Behind him, he could hear the door slide open and the sounds from within were no longer muffled as an interloper stepped out onto the terrace. It was too much to hope that when the noise of the music and crowd was quieted once more, it was because the other person had gone back inside out of respect for his desire for privacy. Unfortunately, he could hear the soft crunch of grit and gravel on the concrete. Even knowing that someone was coming up behind him, it was surprising to hear a familiar voice ask if he minded some company. 

When he turned, Wayne was standing there with a guilty expression. The young man was hovering between Gordon and the door. "Or did you come out here to avoid people like me?" 

While he had done exactly that, he wasn't about to say so to the man who had just donated millions to his department. Gordon would have preferred to be allowed to finish his drink alone, but Wayne was proving to be an intriguing enough individual to be worth the intrusion. In all honesty, though, he couldn't understand what the other man's interest in him was outside of the fact that Wayne seemed to remember him from the police station after his parents' murder. He wouldn't have thought that an eight-year-old kid who had just been through something so traumatic would have remembered those few minutes in the police station, but apparently, he had made some sort of an impression. 

"If you don't mind the cold," Gordon said as an invitation, and he gestured to a section of the metal terrace railing near him. "It isn't much of a view, though. You're probably used to looking down on the city. Gotham looks much better from above." 

Wayne's face brightened into a lopsided grin. _You have no idea,_ he thought as he moved to join the other man in looking up at what could be seen of the city. Even from the ground Gotham was still beautiful to him: endless possibilities, climbing high into the night sky. But he also saw what Gordon meant. It was dirty from the pollution of the industrial side of town, graffiti littered the walls of nearby buildings, and if the establishment weren't filled with cops, there might have been a worry of muggings in the area. The two stood together in silence for a time, just gazing out into the city. 

"You'd rather be out there tonight?" 

"Probably about as much as you'd rather be in there socializing with people like them than out in the cold with an old cop like me." 

A soft chuckle drew Gordon's attention, and he raised an eyebrow at the other man as if challenging him to deny it. Curiously, when he did, Wayne didn't sound as if he were only saying it to be polite. "Actually, I like where I am right now." 

The admission surprised him so much that Gordon didn't know what to say. The two of them didn't share anything in common. He was a beat cop forced into public office while Wayne was a socialite with a reputation for buying whatever he wanted regardless of price or consequence. That particular fact made Gordon somewhat uneasy about accepting the man's money, but there was no way that Garcia was letting it out of his hands now that he had it. 

"Out of curiosity, how did you escape from Mayor Garcia?" 

"I pointed him in the direction of some friends that I thought would be willing to make a charitable contribution if properly motivated. He was working them over when I ducked out." 

Gordon stood there a moment, evaluating what he saw in the other man. In the end, he settled for returning Wayne's comment with equally light-hearted banter. "You know, if you'd wanted the Gotham PD in your pocket, you could have bought it a lot cheaper. Our standards aren't that high." 

That got a laugh out of Wayne. He took a step closer to Gordon to lean against the terrace railing, looking the picture of casual confidence despite the chilly air that was making the commissioner shiver. "Even if I believed that about you, I wouldn't want to give the impression that I thought you were a cheap date. And it's not so much that I want the Department in my pocket as I would like to make sure that it stays funded enough to keep it out of other people's." 

The tone of Wayne's words didn't match the half-drunk grin on his face, which Gordon found incredibly off-putting. He couldn't decide what to make of the man who almost seemed to be flirting with him. Irritated with himself for not being able to determine what Wayne's angle was, he decided to probe a bit deeper to see what he would find. "You should be careful. If you keep doing things like this, you may risk earning yourself a reputation as a man who actually cares about something." 

"We wouldn't want that to happen." The expression on Wayne's face dimmed slightly, and he looked down to stare at his hands. "It doesn't really matter, though, since I can't do things like that often enough to make a real difference." 

Gordon stared at him in blatant disbelief. 

"I'm not Scrooge McDuck with a money bin full of gold, Commissioner. Even if the idea does have a certain amount of appeal to it." 

"You're one of the richest men in the country, in the _world_. I think that you have enough money to fund a small nation." 

"My father was very generous with the trust fund that he left me. I get a liberal allowance, and as I wasn't around for several years to spend it, that money just sat in a bank earning interest. I don't actually gain full access to my inheritance until I'm thirty-five." 

"All of that... You did that on your _allowance_?" 

"Like I said, gestures of this magnitude aren't something that I can do on a regular basis. I can't touch the real money for another six years. But my accountant should be delighted that I just got a ten million dollar tax break." 

Now, Gordon was even less certain what to make of the other man. Wayne seemed to be able to flip between seriousness and idiocy without even making an effort. "You're telling me that you drove all the way down here from the Palisades in order to make a charitable contribution so that your company accountant would forgive your buying a new Ferrari?" 

"Would the reason I did it affect the way you spend it?" 

"No, only my opinion of you." Once said, Gordon wished that he could take back his words. The smile turning up young man's face was clearly forced, and Wayne turned away to stare out into the streets beyond the small terrace rather than continuing to look at the commissioner. He couldn't imagine why Wayne would care about his opinion, but since he seemed to, Gordon made an effort to smooth things over. "I hear that your estate is almost finished being rebuilt. I bet it'll be nice to be back in your home again." 

Wayne nodded emphatically. "It certainly will be. But I was gone from Gotham for so long that just being back in the city feels like being home." 

"If you like it here so much, why did you leave for so long?" Gordon turned to lean casually against the rail and gave Wayne yet another appraising look from top to bottom. The man was definitely a mystery, and unanswered questions had a tendency to gnaw at him until he could solve them. 

The intensity of the gaze being leveled on him made Wayne squirm momentarily as he sought an answer. He genuinely liked the commissioner, and he'd already made a poor enough impression on him as it was. If he wanted to have any sort of a friendship with the man, then he couldn't brush him off with the same flippant comments that he offered everyone else, but Gordon had touched on a difficult subject for him to discuss. 

He finally settled on a truthful response that simply left out most of the details on the matter. "I suppose I didn't _want_ to leave as much as I didn't think that I could stay any longer without doing something that I'd regret." 

"An enigmatic response." It wasn't much to go on, but at least it had sounded honest. Gordon nodded approvingly as he continued to search Wayne's face for any clues about the man. "Maybe there is more to you after all." 

Wayne's mouth turned up in a wry expression of honest amusement, perhaps the first real look at the man Gordon had been allowed all evening. It wasn't as vibrant or charismatic as the smiles reserved for his fellow socialites, but Gordon thought that it suited him well. "I like to think that maybe there is. I hope that there could be, at least." 

"So what is it that you were you afraid of doing?" 

Silence stretched between them as Wayne shook his head uncertainly. "I was mad. I hated my school; I hated the fact that Joe Chill was going to walk for the murder of my parents; I hated that people like Carmine Falconi could _literally_ get away with murder and dine the same day at a restaurant filled with cops and judges. I needed to get lost for a while, and I guess it just took longer than I thought it would to find my way back." 

"Next time, take a cell phone with you. That would have made it a lot easier." Gordon couldn't help a small chuckle of his own as Wayne laughed. His amusement had an undertone of sadness that only served to make him more interested in Bruce Wayne and just who the hell he was. 

"It might not mean much to you, but I meant what I said earlier." Wayne paused to turn from his examination of the streets of Gotham to face Gordon as he spoke. "I really do think that you're doing a great job with this city. I'm actually proud to live here again. Even if it's just a handful of people, even if you're the only one... Someone's standing up and saying 'no more'. Gotham is going to be a decent place to live again. One day soon." 

Gordon was taken aback by that. He hadn't expected much of anything from Wayne at the start of the night, and now he thought he might yet learn to like the other man. "Well, thank you for the vote of confidence." 

"You don't need to thank me." 

"I feel like I should anyway. You've done a lot more than most people have." 

"Well, if you really want to thank me, you can rescue me from my office on Monday around lunch time." Gordon's head turned to stare at him in disbelief. "Mondays are truly terrible days. It would be nice to have an excuse to get away." 

Gordon again found himself wondering why his opinion would mean so much to someone with everything. The brief glimpse that he was given beyond the façade was nice; the real Bruce Wayne seemed like a decent person even though he had never heard of Wayne having any depth of character. The man regularly made the local news for his crazy antics, and he was seen on the cover of gossip magazines with a different girl on his arm practically every week. The man didn't have any family, lived alone, and didn't seem to have any close friends. Gordon felt a strong sense of pity for the man beside him. Being rich really wasn't everything. From the lonely look in Wayne's eyes, it didn't seem to be much of anything at all. 

And now he had turned to Gordon, looking for approval. 

"You have enough money and clout to have anything you want, and you want to do lunch with me?" 

"Yeah." 

"Hell, for twenty million, I'd have lunch with you _every_ Monday." Gordon laughed and took another sip off his beer. 

"It's no great thing for a person with a lot of something to give it away. There's no sacrifice there. People with nothing who continue to give anyway, those are the ones who should be thanked." 

Gordon felt intensely sorry for him, because Wayne seemed like a nice enough guy who was desperately in need of a friend. "Even so, you could have used that money for something personal. You could have bought yourself a new yacht instead or maybe a money bin." 

"Yeah, but gold isn't exactly soft. Jumping into a huge pile of it seems like a really poorly thought out plan." 

"How about giant piles of singles instead?" 

"Now _that_ sounds much more enjoyable." His smile broadened even further, and some of the tension between them dispersed. Gordon found himself liking this fellow a lot more than the image that Wayne showed the world. 

"Jim?" 

Gordon turned, both surprised and irritated with himself for having completely missed hearing the terrace door open again. His wife stood there, shivering slightly in the night air. She still looked stunning, though it only took a moment to see that she was upset about something. Before he could say anything, however, Wayne stepped up to greet her. It was almost startling to watch as the sincerity from before was smoothly masked with an expression typically seen on press releases. "Mrs. Gordon, it's a pleasure to see you again. I hope that you've been having a pleasant evening. I wanted to apologize for before—" 

He was cut off by an ABBA tune playing loudly from his jacket pocket. Wearing a slightly embarrassed expression, Wayne apologized again. "Sorry, that's the Tokyo office. Excuse me." He wandered off to the far side of the terrace to allow them to talk privately. " _Moshi moshi? Aa, Miyamoto-san, ohaiyou gozaimasu. Iie, iie, isogashiku wa arimasen. Mondai nai. Aa, aa._ " 

Gordon watched with interest as Wayne smoothly transitioned from a casual conversation with him on the terrace, to his socialite persona with his wife, to cool businessman over the phone all in the matter of moments. Unfortunately, he couldn't eavesdrop any further as Wayne rambled on easily in Japanese over the phone. Beyond the basic greetings of 'hello' and 'good morning', Gordon was completely at a loss as to what was being said. Not that his wife would have let him listen in. She tugged at his arm, drawing his attention back to her, all while not-so subtly drawing him nearer to block the wind from her own body. 

In a soft tone, she stated that she wanted to go home. Gordon was surprised to hear that. He thought that she'd been having a good time. "Are you not feeling well?" 

For a moment, Barbara considered saying 'yes' but ended up shaking her head. "I'm worried about the kids." 

"Honey, they're fine." He pulled her close for a kiss, running a hand along the line of her throat and wishing that he had taken up her offer to play hooky instead. But now that they were there, he couldn't slip away so easily. 

"No, I called the house, and no one answered. There's something wrong," she insisted, still holding on to him tightly. 

Gordon pressed himself even closer and put a comforting arm around her waist. "It's late; they're probably in bed. Actually, knowing our kids, they're probably up watching the gore-a-thon on cable and are _pretending_ to be in bed. That's why they're not picking up." 

"But what if they're not? What if they're really in trouble? What if they need us?" 

"If we suffocate them, they're only going to end up resenting us for it, even if it's in their best interest." 

Barbara looked up at him with large, pitiful eyes. "Please, Jim? I really want to go." 

"I can't leave yet, but we can go soon. Another hour, that's all." 

"Your image to these people is more important than your family?" 

The sound of Wayne clearing his throat next to them caused both Gordon and his wife to turn around, startled. Wayne smiled at them both, oblivious to the sour look Barbara directed at him. "It may not be my place to butt in, but if the commissioner is going to be stuck here for a while longer, then my driver is waiting in the garage across the street. I can call him around, and he can take you home, Mrs Gordon. Then, that way, the commissioner can get in some more face time with the sharks, and you can make sure everything is all right at home." 

Gordon instantly began to protest that they didn't want to be a burden on him, and even Barbara agreed. "That's really sweet of you, Mr Wayne, but I don't want to be any trouble for you," she added. 

"It's no trouble. He's just going to be sitting there until I'm done, and I probably won't even end up going home tonight, anyway." He offered them a stunningly suggestive smile that only the young and single could manage. "I'm sure Sebastian would enjoy actually getting to do something helpful instead of sitting around waiting for me. And if you're really worried about being home alone, he could stay parked outside the house until Commissioner Gordon comes back." 

Barbara struggled for a moment, trying to find a reason to decline the offer. "But– But how would you get home later?" 

"Oh, that won't be a problem, I promise. I'll give him a ring and let him know to come around front for you. Is five minutes enough time to collect your coat?" 

"No, no that's fine. Thank you, Mr Wayne, this is very kind of you," Barbara finally said, giving in to his insistence. When he had turned away to make the call, she shot a hurt look at her husband. "At least someone cares." 

"Barbara, they're _fine_. Go home, get some rest, and I'll only stay another hour." 

Before she could snap back a reply, Wayne rejoined them and held out a business card to her. "He's pulling up front now. This is my personal number in case... well, in case you need anything." 

"Thank you again, Mr Wayne." Her voice was grateful as she took the card from him. 

"No thanks necessary. If I can do anything else for you, just give me a call." 

Gordon couldn't help thinking that the smile Wayne was offering his wife was more than just a little flirtatious, and Barbara seemed to notice as well. Her cheeks tinged a slight pink as she smiled back and thanked him once again. After she had left, card in hand, Gordon found that his earlier good humor had dissipated. "Sorry to drag you into the middle of this. We're having... independence issues regarding the kids." 

"It's not a problem. How old are they? If you don't mind my asking." 

"Jimmy is ten, and Babs just turned twelve." 

"Then your 'independence issues' are only just getting started, Commissioner." 

"Tell me about it." Turning the conversation from his family life, Gordon said, "I bet you were a precocious child." 

"It is a great testament to my guardian's strength of character that I did not drive him to drink. Among other things, I had a tendency to sneak away from my tutors and wander around the estate by myself without telling anyone where I was going. Twenty years later, he still won't let me forget about that." 

"With our kids, it wouldn't be a matter of not letting the matter go. I think she might actually kill one of them for scaring her like that." He couldn't blame Barbara for her worrying. In order to keep his family out of the media – and to keep future criminals from getting the same idea – Gordon hadn't reported the kidnapping of his family in any of the official statements or documents. When the police had come to investigate the murder of Harvey Dent, he'd made sure that they were quietly moved out while the bulk of the force was chasing the Batman. For that reason, neither Barbara nor the kids had been able to have the opportunity to heal that they deserved, but it had kept them safe. 

The tightness in the commissioner's expression made Wayne feel guilty for having brought up something that was a tender subject. Unfortunately, there was only so much small talk one could make before being consigned to talking about the weather. He wasn't familiar enough with Gordon's personal interests to be able to steer the conversation as smoothly as he would have liked. Reaching out, he clapped the other man on the shoulder to draw him out of his thoughts. "So how are things in the police department these days?" 

"You just gave millions of dollars for improvements, and you don't know?" Gordon tilted the bottle in his hand back all the way to finish off what was left at the bottom before setting it aside on the terrace rail beside him. "Everything's a mess. The Narrows are still filled with criminals that we can't seem to catch, half the people Harvey put away have either been released or are going to get away with a slap on the wrist, I have no idea who I can trust anymore, and apparently I'm a terrible judge of character." 

"I trust your judgment." 

"You don't know anything about me. How can you say something like that?" 

"I know enough. You do what you need to in order to get a job done without crossing an ethical line. You have a history of never taking bribes. You're one of maybe a dozen officers with no reason to be investigated by Internal Affairs. And in the last couple of years, the crime rate in Gotham has very nearly been halved. I'd say that's about all I need to know to decide where to put my trust." 

The idea that Wayne had actively checked up on him and his past didn't fit in the slightest with his flippant attitude of carelessness. There were a number of terms that had been used over the years to describe the man: eccentric, flighty, a playboy, the Prince of Gotham. Gordon couldn't remember 'intelligent' ever being one of those descriptors, and yet there was something in Wayne's eyes that made him certain that the man was definitely more than he let on. Gordon suddenly found himself second-guessing every move that Wayne had made since he had met him. 

Had the collision in July really been just an accident? Reese was one of Wayne's employees, which made it a pretty big coincidence that a billionaire was joy riding in the same part of town at the exact same time as Reese was going on television to disclose Batman's identity. Had he perhaps told Wayne what he had been stopped from saying on the live newscast? A dozen questions began circling through his mind, the foremost being who was Bruce Wayne? And why was he offering these hints now? 

"Thank you for the vote of confidence." 

Wayne gave him another smile, small but sincere. "Keep trusting people. If you don't have any faith left, then they've won. What's the point in fighting for something that you don't believe in?" Not feeling particularly welcome any longer, he decided to give his farewells and leave. "Enjoy the rest of the party, Commissioner." 

"I doubt that I will, but thank you anyway." 

Wayne turned to go, but he hesitated briefly before turning back to Gordon. "Let me buy you another drink, then you can go circulate with your guests and schmooze a bit more. If you're still tied up with them when you're ready to leave, I'll make a distraction so that you can sneak out of here and go home." 

"You don't have to bother yourself with me." 

"Not everyone is made for these sorts of things. Personally, I hate the opening bits with all the speeches by this person and that person, with all the stale jokes that everyone laughs at quietly because it's expected. Besides! We should get you home to your wife sooner rather than later." Wayne put an arm around Gordon's shoulders and led them back inside. Gordon wasn't sure why he was allowing himself to be steered along by the other man, but he couldn't help being intrigued by Wayne's manner. "Women left alone too long will tend to brood, and that's no good for you when you do get home." 

"You have no idea." Gordon gave a small chuckle. He couldn't imagine Bruce Wayne ever having been 'brooded' at by a woman in his entire life. Regardless, he let himself be pulled back into the throng. The promise of another drink and a limited time of suffering managed to lighten his mood. If he could find Stephens, then he might actually be able to find his good spirits again.


	8. Chapter 8

~One Hour Later~

As promised, Wayne appeared at his side exactly sixty minutes after leaving it. By then, he was more than ready to go home, and yet Gordon was surprised to find the other man's presence to be strangely pleasant. The two chatted as they went first to the cloakroom then down along the sidewalk to Gordon's car. Despite his offer to drive Wayne home, Gordon was politely refused as Wayne insisted that he had other means. 

"At least let me call you a taxi," Gordon tried again, already moving for his cell phone. 

"Really, I'll be fine. It's a nice night out, and I don't think I'm quite ready to go home yet anyway." 

The man was definitely crazy. The storm clouds from earlier had all cleared, but there was so much light pollution that only the moon was bright enough to shine through, not to mention that it was freezing. It was a surreal ending to an incredibly bizarre evening as he watched from the door of his sedan as Bruce Wayne strolled away, ruining his unreasonably expensive shoes by walking through the slush and snow. Gordon had a lingering fear that tomorrow's headline would read _Billionaire Playboy Mugged In Alley Outside of Policeman's Ball,_ but it wasn't as if he could force the younger man into the car. 

Swearing under his breath, Gordon got in, started the engine against its protesting growls, and followed Wayne down the poorly lit street. The window also tried to protest his efforts to roll it down, but he managed to get it halfway open before it got stuck. He slowed to a stop alongside Wayne who had turned to look at him questioningly. "It's freezing, it's dangerous out at night, and you're insane," he stated definitively. "Get in the car." 

"I thought the saying was that rich people were 'eccentric' not 'crazy'." An amused smile played across his features for a moment, but when Gordon only frowned at him disapprovingly, his expression quickly turned contrite. "There's an all-night diner a few blocks from here, I think. You could drop me there so that I can have a coffee while I wait for a ride?" 

"That's better. Now get in." It was surprisingly good for his ego to finally have someone do as they were told. _If only I could get the mayor and that damned accountant to listen to me,_ he thought idly as Wayne walked around the car and waited for Gordon to unlock the door before sliding in. Quickly, Gordon rolled the window back up and cranked the heater. "You really need to take better care of yourself. Walking around this part of town at night, looking the way you do, it's like asking for someone to try to assault you." 

"I don't want to be an inconvenience." 

"'Serve and protect', I'm told that's what we do here at the police department." Bruce didn't look at all convinced, so he added, "I promise, you're not an inconvenience." 

Wayne lifted his hands to warm his fingers in front of the vents, and he smiled softly. "I really do think you'll do a great job at it." 

"Well..." Gordon shifted in his seat uncomfortably, embarrassed by the other man's continued praise. "It should be a little easier now that we've got some funding to pick up a few of the things that had gotten cut from the budget for the year." 

"You know what they say. Necessity is the mother of invention. You'll just have to come up with some creative alternatives. Up there on the right – you can let me out there." 

Gordon flipped on his turn signal and pulled up to the curb in front of a seedy-looking diner that didn't appear to be much better than the street Wayne had been walking down originally. At least here there was a light and a phone booth outside the shop. "I honestly don't mind taking you home." 

It was difficult to restrain himself and not say just how much he liked the idea of Gordon 'taking him home', but Wayne managed to say with a straight face that it was unnecessary. "Besides, your wife is waiting on you. You should get home to the family. I don't usually stroll in until morning anyway. No one's expecting me." 

"All right..." His tone was skeptical, but then, he couldn't force the other man to have common sense. "And if you just happen to think up any of those 'creative alternatives', you let me know." 

Wayne had unbuckled his seatbelt and was starting to get out, but the commissioner's words stopped him. "Personal consultant to the Police Department. I like the sound of that – could I get a badge?" 

The enthusiasm behind the question made Gordon laugh. "No, and I don't think that you'd enjoy the Police Academy, either." 

"Probably not. Oh well. Thanks again for the ride, and I'll see you later." 

"Good night." Gordon watched, waiting for Wayne to actually go into the diner before pulling back out onto the street and turning around to head home. He had done his best to make sure the other man didn't get himself needlessly killed, but Wayne had been right about one thing. He did have people waiting at home, and one of them wasn't at all happy with him. 

The entire way home, Gordon's thoughts circled around how much trouble he was going to be in for not having left when Barbara had wanted and the ways he could apologize for not having gone with her. The fact that their bedroom light was still on when he pulled up the street towards their house was a good sign. Across the street, a car flashed its headlights at him as he pulled into one of the parking spaces, and Gordon watched as a limousine pulled away from their home. That would have the neighbors talking for a while. They didn't live in a particularly poor part of town, but they certainly didn't live near anywhere that saw Rolls-Royces, even infrequently. 

Letting himself into the house, Gordon dumped his coat in a pile and kicked off his wet shoes before walking quietly back to where he was certain yet another argument was waiting for him. Even knowing that she was still awake, it was a complete surprise to find Barbara waiting for him stretched out atop their comforter. The dress she had worn had been replaced with a negligee that left very little to the imagination. 

"Welcome home, Mr. Commissioner," she said affectionately, rolling over onto her side to face him. As she did so, the lacy hem of the garment slipped even higher up her thigh. "Have I told you just how incredibly sexy you look tonight?" 

For a moment, all he could do to stand there, staring. After fifteen years of marriage, she was still every bit as attractive as when they first met - even if they were arguing more often these days than not. "I don't know if 'sexy' even begins to cover how good you look," he replied, shutting the door quietly behind him. If Barbara was willing to pick up where they had left off before going out for the night, then he wasn't about to complain. Taking a few steps closer to the bed, he tore his eyes away from the thin, see-through material covering her breasts to look her in the eyes. "I'm sorry about earlier." 

"No, you were right." Barbara offered him a shy smile as she rose to stand beside him. "I was just being overprotective like you said." Wrapping her arms around his neck, she murmured temptingly, "And I was hoping that I could make it up to you somehow." 

"Oh really?" Gordon tilted his head down to place a kiss on the edge of her mouth. "What exactly did you have in mind?" 

Barbara shook her head and shrugged coyly. "I suppose we'll think of something." As his hands trailed up the length of her body, she made a noise very similar to a contented cat, and she arched up against him. 

"You don't have to apologize. I love that you love our children so much." Gordon trailed a line of kisses up her jaw to just below her ear. Regardless of what he said, he didn't do a thing to stop her hands from searching out and unbuckling the fastenings of his trousers. Usually by the time he got home from work, the best they could manage was a few lingering kisses and to fall asleep in each other's arms. He had almost forgotten how wonderful her body felt. Apparently, he hadn't lost his touch either. Barbara was making little moans in the back of her throat as he cupped her breasts, running his thumbs over the silky material covering her nipples. The thought of getting that material out of the way so that he could have her naked under him had his trousers fitting a little too tightly. 

"Jim..." His name was spoken breathily as her head tipped back, and he fell upon the exposed skin, kissing and nipping at her neck. Gordon worked his way down her throat and along her collarbone until he came to one of the two thin straps holding up her negligee. Slipping the straps from her shoulders caused the top to slither off her body and pool at her feet, leaving Barbara in only the matching panties, which were made up of nothing more than a few crisscrossing strips of material. 

She raised her arms as if to cover herself in a gesture of modesty, but instead, she ran her hands along her breasts, massaging them as he watched in fascination. " _This_ event _isn't_ black tie." Grabbing hold of his tie, she gave it a tug. "You, mister, are seriously overdressed." 

Barbara gave a squeak of delight as Gordon scooped her up into his arms, and she couldn't keep from laughing happily as he carried her the short distance back to their bed. Her mouth opened under his as he kissed her. Feeling blindly, she reached up to take off his glasses and tossed them gently in the direction of the nightstand. He was still wearing far too much for what she had in mind, though. Dexterous fingers worked at the buttons of his shirt even as she was spread out under him on the bed. 

Gordon's voice was strained as he told her to lift her hips so that he could pull down the lacy underwear she wore. He took his time sliding the garment off of her, only to drag a corner of the fabric along her thighs, teasing the material over sensitive skin before replacing it with a firmer touch between her legs. His ego swelled along with his cock as he felt how wet she was. It would have been easy to slip one finger inside, but instead, he teased at her opening and pressed just the tip in. The sounds of her moans as he stroked her sent jolts down his spine. "God, I love you, Barbara." 

"Just think," she replied, all but purring as she spoke. "If we moved away from here, we would have time to do this more often." 

"We can make the time." He trailed kisses along her throat all the way down to nuzzle at one breast. 

Running her hands through his hair, Barbara asked softly, "When was the last time we both managed to be home and free at the same time?" 

Gordon hesitated, knowing exactly where this was going, and he didn't like it. She was being generous by insinuating that some of the blame was hers, but he knew that his new job was the reason that he was never home. He was either in his office or on the roof with Batman until late into the night, then neither of them had the energy for more recreational activities. "I love you," he said in a desperate mantra, having no other answer for her. 

"I love you, too, Jim. That was never in question." She brought his hand back up to play with her breast again, arching into the touch as he did so. "We could go somewhere nice and quiet. Somewhere that you can work a regular shift. Even when you were working ten hours a day on your beat, you were still home for dinner. Now, I never know when I'll see you." 

Gordon rolled off of her to lie on his back and stare up at the ceiling. "I can't just abandon this city. So much has gotten better here. It would all fall apart if I leave. Too many people are counting on me." 

" _We're_ counting on you, too. We need you. And I want you." 

There was nothing else for him to say. They'd been over all the reasons before on multiple occasions. "I love you – all of you. But I can't leave now." 

"Sure you can. It's easy." Scooting over to kneel between his legs, Barbara punctuated each sentence with kisses along his stomach. "You go in. You give notice. And in a month, we're in a new place. New lives. No more fear. No more sixteen-hour days." 

It was Gordon's turn to lift his hips so that Barbara could work his trousers and briefs down out of the way. She shifted to straddle his thighs once the offending clothing had been gotten rid of. In response, he reached out to roll a nipple between his fingers. The little bud was already firm with desire, and it made Barbara squirm in a way that was really attractive. 

"You could come home while dinner was still hot," she said, returning the favor by massaging his balls. His cock was flushed and hard as it lay across his stomach, but it was more fun to tease him a bit first. "And after the kids went to bed, you and I might be able to find a little time just for us. For all the things we used to get to do but don't have time for any more." 

She slid forward a few inches and rocked her body back and forth, causing Gordon's eyes to fall shut with a moan. He was clearly being manipulated, but he didn't care. He could feel the hot wetness between her thighs along his cock. Barbara obviously still wanted him, or at least wanted this from him. As long as they still loved each other, wanted each other, they would find some way for things to work. In the meantime, any form of sex was good enough, even if it was designed to get him to leave Gotham. 

It was difficult to work up enough mental cohesion to reach for the nightstand where a package of condoms was kept, but she brushed his hand away. "We don't need those," she whispered into his ear as she leaned forward even further. Both of them gave soft, needy moans as she rocked back, easing herself onto him. Gordon's hands clutched at the bedding, completely halted in his efforts. 

"You and me, Jim," she said breathily, drawing herself up again before taking him into herself once more. "Even if we stay here, you could go back to just being a cop. Be home by six every night. We could make love instead of being too tired to talk to each other." 

Gordon's head fell back, eyes shut, mouth slightly open in an expression of pleasure as Barbara continued to pump her hips up and down in a faster rhythm. His hands came up to caress her hips, sliding around to squeeze her ass, urging her on. "Love you," he whispered again. 

This time, however, the voice he heard whispering back his name wasn't his wife's. Instead, it was a low, raspy voice that panted out his name, filled with want and need. Gordon's eyes shot open, but all he saw was Barbara, her breasts bouncing with each movement that she made. His hips rocked up hard to meet her, and she was moaning softly with each thrust. Her hands were moving along her body, pleasuring herself as she ran them across her breasts and along her stomach. As far as she could tell, there wasn't a thing wrong. Gordon wasn't so sure. 

Rough and calloused, that's what Batman's hands would be like. He would be much heavier than Barbara as he settled his body across Gordon's, possessive yet needy. Needing _him_. Gordon didn't know what it was that made him think about his night-time companion at that very moment, that incredibly inappropriate moment, but he did. It was completely irrational, but he couldn't help thinking about the way that Batman's eyes, already dark as night, would be dilated with want for him, that Batman's lips would be parted slightly as he panted his name over and over again. 

Gordon thrust up faster, harder, making Barbara give a gasp of shock. A sheen of sweat was covering his body now, and he was unable to hold himself back. Wrapping one leg around her tightly, he rolled them over. He needed to feel her under him, to remind himself of what he actually had instead of a stupid fantasy about something that wasn't even real. Barbara's body was arched up against him, but he wanted to make her lose control, to remind her why they should stay together. He didn't want her to leave him. He didn't want to lose Batman, either. If they left, Gordon doubted he would ever see the masked man again, and he wasn't ready for that. Closing his eyes again, it was far too easy to imagine that it was Batman beneath him. Batman was the one calling out his name, Batman was the one being kissed hard, biting and sucking at his throat, Batman was the one clenching down on his cock as he came– 

Only it wasn't. 

"Barbara." Gordon's voice was shaky with desire, barely holding back his own orgasm. He tried to pull out so that he could finish, but she held him tight, thrusting up to meet him again and again until Gordon couldn't fight it back any longer. He came, hips jerking a few more times, as he moved slowly inside her, riding waves of pleasure. After, he was left panting as he settled alongside her, kissing her neck softly. He was still breathing heavily, enjoying the lingering feeling at the same time that he felt incredibly guilty for thinking of someone else, though not enough to take away the pleasant afterglow. Tipping his head up, he kissed the corner of Barbara's mouth. 

"I love you, Jim." 

"Love you, too." The words tasted bitter in his mouth this time, the same as they had when he'd told his son that everything would be all right even as Dent held a gun to his head. Years in Gotham had made him too good at lying. He was able to say it without even a hitch to give voice to the guilt he felt. 

Barbara smiled, and she took his hand and brought it to her lips to kiss before lowering it to rest on her stomach. Obligingly, he rubbed soothing circles there with his fingertips. Trying once more to convince him, she said, "I want you to come with me. I can't stay here, and I don't want to go without you." 

"I can't leave, not now, anyway." 

"When?" 

"I can't leave before I know that everything won't fall apart completely." 

"So, never?" 

"That's not fair." 

"No, I understand. You're a good man, Jim; you're just divided by having a duty to more than one person. You know that I can take care of myself, and the kids are getting so big." She cuddled up closer to him and slipped an arm around this waist. "But there's one thing that you can't turn your back on." 

As effective as an icy shower, Gordon suddenly felt any trace of sleepiness dissipate. His full attention was turned to his wife whose eyes were closed and her expression was incredibly satisfied. "What do you mean by that?" 

"I'm pregnant." 

The rest of the world dropped away, leaving nothing but cold confusion. It was a sudden, almost suffocating feeling. Two words had never before left him feeling so out of touch and helpless. As much as he loved his children, he had thought both times that Barbara had been pregnant that only a truly cruel and unfeeling person would bring a child into the world at a time like this. And yet they had, twice, and he loved both of his children, but the thought of having another was unthinkable. 

"What?" 

"I'm pregnant, or at least I will be after tonight." Her fingers trailed lazily up and down his spine as she spoke. "I've been thinking about it for a long time, wondering what I could say, what I could do that would convince you that we were more important than a _job_. This was it. You wouldn't turn your back on us if there were a baby." 

"But we haven't even really, you know, there hasn't been any _time_!" 

"I know, believe me, I know. But I've been watching the calendar. Tonight was the night that I would be most ready. That and three months of fertilization treatments." 

Gordon pushed her off of him to sit up and stare at her. The words 'baby' and 'treatment' kept circling in his mind, blocking out everything else. Knowing that the entire evening had been even more staged than he had originally believed was outweighing even the knowledge that Barbara wasn't actually pregnant yet. "Say that again?" 

Barbara pushed herself up onto one elbow and replied soothingly, "Unless you're not shooting straight any more, Jim, you're going to be a daddy again." 

All that he could think of to say in response was an almost desperate, "No." 

"Yes." 

"Oh, God." Gordon continued touching her stomach for a moment in blatant disbelief and horror, and then he brought his hand up to scrub at his face. When had his life become so utterly confusing? He'd been having a surprisingly good time with Bruce Wayne, the least likely companion in the world, and then had had disturbing sex with his wife while thinking of a man who dressed up as a bat, and then the entire crazy affair was wrapped up by his wife trying to manipulate him into moving by having a baby. "I... think I'm going to go sleep on the couch tonight." 

"Think on it, Jim." She seemed disappointed but not too surprised as he stood and fumbled about in the drawers for a pair of pajama bottoms. "You'll see that I'm right, eventually."


	9. Chapter 9

~December 22~

In the four decades that he'd lived in Gotham, Gordon had never once been inside the towering glass structure that housed Wayne Enterprises. He had passed it enough times in his years on the force to be familiar with the building and the surrounding area; however, an emergency had never come up that required his presence inside. And he'd certainly never had a personal reason for going into the building before. The last thing he had expected was to receive an invitation from the young heir to the Wayne throne, but that seemed to be the direction his life was taking: towards the unexpected. With everything that had happened that weekend, the conversations and subsequent arguments with Barbara, Gordon had been grateful when the work week rolled around again. The thought of having lunch with Wayne had been intriguing enough to get him to leave the station, yet standing in the front lobby of Wayne Enterprises, he was no longer certain that it had been as good an idea as it had seemed an hour ago. 

All around him, a constant buzz of chatter filled the lobby as the mass of wandering employees and guests spoke into cell phones and blue tooth headsets. Gordon paused momentarily to watch the hub of activity and felt incredibly out of place. The man nearest him in the crowd was wearing a suit that was easily worth more than the blue book value of his sedan. Men and women who radiated power and wealth were passing on either side of him, paying about as much attention to him as they would the janitorial staff or someone else considered equally inconsequential. 

After a few more moments of gazing around the lobby, Gordon managed to locate the building directory, though it didn't prove to be any more useful than standing and staring. Bruce Wayne's name was plastered all over the wall, but there wasn't any information whatsoever on where or how to find the man. It had been an impulsive decision to drive up to Wayne Enterprises instead of having his usual take out, but even so, he quietly cursed himself for not even thinking to grab the business card with Wayne's number on it. 

Finally, one of the front desk receptionists took pity on his confused state and came over to assist him. Like the other uniformed employees he'd seen, this young woman looked like a model plucked from the pages of a magazine, and Gordon tried not to stare as she walked up to him with a wide smile that bordered on flirtatious. "Can I help you, sir?" 

"I hope so. I'm supposed to meet with Mr Wayne; unfortunately, I have no idea where I'm going." The skeptical expression she was trying to conceal wasn't entirely surprising. Gordon certainly didn't think that he looked the part of someone who would be stopping by to see Wayne. Councilmen, powerful businessmen from around the world, and busty masseuses that didn't speak English were the sorts of people Gordon envisioned striding purposefully and confidently into Wayne Enterprises to meet with the elusive Gothamite. As an afterthought, he added, "Could you possibly point me in the right direction?" 

"Mr Wayne's office is on the top floor," the young woman replied patiently, and Gordon suppressed an urge to roll his eyes. Of course the owner of the company would be at the top. "To get there, you need to go down this hallway past the first bank of elevators and turn right when you reach the end. At that point, there will be a security station where you'll need to sign in and go through the basic checkpoint motions, pretty much like at any airport. Once security clears you, there will be another set of elevators; take one of those all the way up. Turn left out of the elevator, and there will be an administrative assistant who will be able to direct you to Mr Wayne's executive assistant, Katrina. She'll be able to help you." 

"Ask for Katrina. All right." Gordon adjusted his glasses so that he could read her nametag. "Thank you for your help, Kelli." 

"You're quite welcome, sir. And enjoy your time at Wayne Enterprises." The smile that she offered him as she turned to walk back to her desk made Gordon's eyebrows rise. Briefly, he was reminded of every conversation he'd ever had with Ramirez about the 'glass ceiling' in the workplace. 

Even so, Gordon could feel his mood brightening, and a small grin lightened his features somewhat as he made his way through the labyrinth-like halls of the building. As he passed kiosks and small coffee shops where Wayne Enterprises employees milled about engaging each other in conversation, the commissioner couldn't help feeling a bit like Dian Fossey. The more he saw of the building, however, the more certain he was that he didn't belong there. He had no doubt that his children would have loved it. Wayne Enterprises was an architectural art piece, as were its inhabitants who were crafted out of Botox and silicon instead of concrete and steel. 

By the time he had made it to the top floor, Gordon had spoken with two other women and a very imposing security guard, all of whom were wondering what he was doing there. It hadn't made for a very warm welcome, especially when the receptionist outside the top floor elevators had personally led him through the halls to the office of Wayne's executive assistant to make sure that he didn't get lost. Gordon had spent enough years in law enforcement to know that she had really meant 'to keep him from wandering where he shouldn't'. Wayne's personal assistant, who struck him as little more than a glorified secretary, was perhaps the least impressed with him of anyone he had met there so far. And her desk was easily twice the size of the one in City Hall, not to mention that her private office looked like she could have been the president of her own company. 

This was going to be the last hoop he jumped through in order to fulfill his obligation to Wayne. Either he would be allowed in, or he would send an apology to Wayne another time, but he wasn't going to subject himself to one more person looking at him askance. Ten million dollars or not, he wasn't so curious about Bruce Wayne that he was willing to part with his dignity. While he probably could have taken out his badge and been shown straight up without question, Gordon had seen enough cops throw their weight around over the years that he didn't want to get in the habit of abusing that privilege. 

In a preemptive strike to keep yet another person from asking what they could do for him in a snide tone, he said, "I'm here to see Mr Wayne." 

Wayne's assistant looked him over slowly before turning her gaze first to the wall clock then back to him. "I'm sorry, but Mr Wayne never sees anyone at this hour. If you have an appointment with him, perhaps you're mistaken about the time?" 

Gordon frowned and held up his own wristwatch to examine. It was twenty-three past noon, which was a perfectly reasonable time to do lunch; though truthfully, Wayne had never said a time when he ought to come by. He had only been adamant that it was something that he wanted. 

"Name?" The brunette opened a large schedule book beside her and flipped to the day's date. 

"'Gordon.' Wayne asked me to come down to join him for lunch today, but he didn't say what time to show up. He may have meant a little later in the afternoon." To go along with the question of when independently wealthy men got around to eating, Gordon suddenly found himself wondering _what_ billionaires liked to eat. Hopefully it wouldn't be anything too indiscernible. 

"I'm sorry, sir, I don't have you down at all for today... or tomorrow... or Wednesday. Perhaps if you'd like to arrange a meeting with him, you should call ahead to make an appointment. His time is very valuable, and Mr Wayne rarely has any openings free in his schedule." 

It was Gordon's turn to look at her in disbelief as he could clearly see large, empty blocks of time on each page. "As he was the one that asked me to leave _my_ busy schedule to come here, would it be possible for you to at least ask if he would be willing to see me now or at some future time?" 

She smiled up at him thinly, her tone changing from skeptical to chilly. "Mr Wayne isn't in his office right now, and you're not in the book. There isn't anything I can do without you making an appointment." 

"I have one of those appointment planners in my office, too. It usually isn't up to date. Things change. And I believe most people have these little things called telephones. You could try using yours." 

For a moment, Gordon was afraid that she was going to use it to call security instead. "I can try calling the company's CEO and see if some arrangement can be made. If not, then I'm afraid you're going to have to be asked to leave." 

As much as he wanted to leave at that moment, there was a juvenile pleasure in making trouble for Wayne's assistant. "I'd appreciate that," he said, crossing his arms and leaning against the desk to wait. 

Wayne's assistant touched her earpiece to turn it on then hit one of the speed dials on her phone. "Hello, Dee? Hi, this is Katrina. I have a gentleman here who says that he has an appointment with Mr Wayne. ... No, he's not in the book. ... Uh-huh. Well, I just wanted to call down and double-check in case there was some sort of oversight. Is Mr Wayne in with Mr Fox by any chance? ... Yes, I can hold." 

The expression she wore was gracious but doubtful. "Mr Wayne isn't available now, but she's going to– Yes, Dee? It was 'Gordon'." She looked up at him expectantly for more information. 

"'Jim'," he supplied quietly. 

"'Jim Gordon'. Right." She tapped the mute button. "Mr Fox's assistant is going to check if he has a moment to see you instead. He's the CEO of Wayne Enterprises and would be just as capable of handling whatever it is that you need in Mr Wayne's absence." 

Gordon tried to refuse her offer, but she held up a finger in a gesture that irritatingly said nothing less than for him to shush. She tapped her headset again. "I'm still here, yes. Yes. Really? You're sure? ... All right, I'll let him know. Thank you." 

After hanging up the phone, Katrina stood and smiled at him as politely as she could manage. "It seems that you're a little earlier than Mr Wayne had expected. Mr Fox says that he's still down in Research and Development overseeing a project, but he'll let Mr Wayne know that you're here so that he can meet you as soon as possible. You can wait in Mr Wayne's office for him, if you'd like. He shouldn't be too much longer." 

He would have refused, but the rankled grimace on her face was too good to pass up. "Thank you," he said, waiting for her to lead the way. 

And so Gordon found himself alone in the office of the richest – and possibly the strangest – man in Gotham. The urge to be nosy was nearly overwhelming. Common sense said that every angle of the room was probably covered by video surveillance, which was all that kept him from sitting in the man's chair and giving it a good spin. However, it didn't prevent him from examining the room in detail. The contents were likely to help give him an idea of who Bruce Wayne really was, or at least who Bruce Wayne wanted people to think he was. 

*****

It didn't take Wayne long to realize that something was wrong. The fact that the overhead lights had come on in his locked and otherwise deserted conference room was something of a clue, but he had also sensed that a figure was approaching the couch on which he'd been sleeping. "This had better be really important, Lucius," he said, managing to make each word come out clearly with a hint irritation lacing the general exhaustion that he felt. 

Working all night, returning to the penthouse to change, then coming in for meetings during the day was incredibly inconvenient. It was easier to sneak into Wayne Enterprises after a long night on the town and simply sleep there until it was time for duty to call, assuming there were any pressing engagements in the morning. Otherwise, Bruce Wayne never showed up before noon, and even that was pushing the bounds of reality a touch far. Now that the police were giving him free reign to do as he pleased, he was even busier than before. While he no longer had to be worried about being shot at by the GCPD now that he was being given their full cooperation, he was still being targeted heavily by Gotham's underworld. And the cops were more than happy to let the Batman with his heavy armor and expensive toys get shot at instead of their officers. Between a splintered mob cartel and the usual street gangs pushing drugs and weapons, his nights were swamped. 

"Long evening, Mr Wayne?" Fox walked up to the edge of the couch cautiously. Regardless of the friendship the two men had build since Wayne's return, it was foolish to startle a man who could easily kill with his bare hands. From the news reports that he'd read, the Batman had been using his hands a great deal of late, and it showed on Wayne's face as he rolled over to look up at him. 

Squinting his eyes against the harsh glare of the fluorescent overhead lights, Wayne grunted in the affirmative before trying to pull himself fully into consciousness. He scrubbed at his face as he sat up and gave a satisfying stretched that caused his back to pop loudly before looking up at his friend again. He knew and trusted Fox enough to surmise that he wouldn't interrupt unless it was something important, but even so, he couldn't help getting off a sarcastic remark first. "It was long and not all that much fun. So something had better be on fire, though I don't hear any alarms going off." 

"Typically, I'd be happy to let you rest down here until the board meeting this afternoon, but you seem to have done something that requires your immediate attention." 

"Is it too late to claim to have had nothing to do with it? I don't know if I can deal with the press right now. I honestly don't recall doing anything _too_ flamboyant." He pressed a palm against his temple, willing the throbbing there to subside. Closing his eyes again, he drew in a deep breath and forced it from his thoughts. Discomfort, like pain, was just a state of mind which could be controlled. After a moment of concentration, he found that he felt much better, and he stood to face his friend with an inquisitive expression. 

It was a little disconcerting to watch the change in Wayne's posture as his Batman persona momentarily slipped into place. On some levels, though, that mask was preferable to the one he showed most of the world. It had taken the better part of a year before Wayne had stopped using the spoiled rich boy act with him, despite Fox's involvement with the Batman's activities. "I'm not certain what it is you've done," he began, extending a hand to straighten the collar of Wayne's shirt. "Whatever it was, it seems to have caught the attention of the police. The commissioner himself is here, wanting to see you." 

Again, Wayne's face went through a transformation as his expression lit up with an excited smile. "Gordon? Really? He really came here?" 

Fox nodded slowly, not understanding why this was cause for excitement. Most people felt that having the police come looking for them wasn't a cause for celebration, but he had accepted long ago that Bruce Wayne was far from being 'most people'. "He didn't bring any other officers with him, so you may be in luck. He's waiting up in your office." 

"Did he say what he was here for?" Hurriedly, Wayne began smoothing out the worst of the wrinkles from his shirt. His jacket and tie had been tossed over the end of the couch, but the pair of shoes he had been wearing had disappeared underneath the couch. 

"I don't know. Your secretary called mine who told me that he was here." Fox knelt down with a groan caused by his protesting joints in order to retrieve the missing loafers. "Though I must say that you don't seem to be nearly as surprised to hear this as I was." 

"Oh, I am! I really am. I didn't think that he was going to accept my invitation." Wayne was grinning like a kid on Christmas morning. Holding his arms wide for Fox's appraisal, he asked, "Do I look all right?" 

Fox shook his head affectionately at his friend before making an effort to smooth out Wayne's hair then held out his shoes. "You may want to put these on first. The other board members won't be here for a couple more hours, so you can go out and play with your friend if you want to, but be home in time for supper." 

"Yes, mother." 

Wayne looked the part of the young schoolboy as he stood there, hopping on one foot as he tried to tie his laces without bending over. Once he was upright again, Fox handed him his jacket and tie. "I'll text you when it gets close to being time for the meeting. Enjoy yourself until then, Mr Wayne." 

*****

Gordon wasn't certain how long he'd been left waiting by the time he had managed to circulate the office once. It was every bit as flush as he would have expected, chrome and steel mixing in what was surely someone's idea of an elegant way with hardwood and lacquer. For some reason, Gordon doubted that the conference table dominating one end of the office was used as much as the plush leather sofa and plasma screen television were, especially since Wayne's expansive desk was devoid of a single piece of paper needing to be dealt with. While his own office was literally bulging at the seams with work to be done, Wayne's office was tidy and didn't reflect an ounce of actual responsibility. 

"Commissioner Gordon, I am so sorry to keep you waiting." 

As soon as Wayne opened the door and entered the room, Gordon spun around from the bookshelf he had been inspecting to greet the other man with an innocent expression. The words died on his lips when he saw Wayne standing there in a rumpled suit, his hair mussed and sticking up. Even after a high-speed collision, Wayne had still looked immaculate as he sat on the curb massaging his neck. Now, his tie was askew, and he looked like he had tried to put his appearance back into order in a hurry on his way in. 

Clearing his throat, Gordon tried to think of something neutral he could say as a number of ideas flashed through his mind regarding what Wayne could have been doing to seem so disheveled. Wayne looked very much like a man who had been pulled away from a clandestine encounter with an intern in one of the many large corporate offices. "No, not at all. It hasn't been that long, Mr Wayne. And I'm sorry to have pulled you away from your, uh, previous engagement so abruptly." 

"My what?" Wayne's face was blank for a moment before understanding dawned, followed by an amused grin. "No, you aren't interrupting anything. I was hiding downstairs so that I could catch a nap. Being in R&D is the line they give people when I've wandered away and can't be found. My apologies if they gave you any trouble because I was AWOL." 

"It wasn't too bad, although I don't think that your secretary likes me very much." Again, Gordon was amazed by the man's ability to set him at ease. Before Wayne came in, he had been prepared to let Wayne have a piece of his mind for the trouble he had gone through, but there was something about his entire demeanor that just made Gordon want to smile instead. 

"Don't take it personally. It's part of her job to give people a hard time, what with the number of tabloid journalists who sneak around trying to get photos and sound bites. Though I would have thought Katrina would know better than to hassle the police commissioner." As some of the tension in the air between them settled, Wayne decided it was safe to move closer. With his hands stuffed into the pockets of his trousers, he crossed the room to stand beside the commissioner. "I'm really glad that you were able to make it." 

The sincerity behind Wayne's words was a little startling, especially since he couldn't think of a reason for it. He wasn't sure what he was expected to say in reply to that, though there wasn't much that he was sure of anymore. Trying to deflect the topic with continued small talk, Gordon turned to face the office's massive leather sofa. It lined the wall under a bay of windows which had a spectacular view of pretty much the entire downtown area. "I gotta ask, if you have this huge couch here and an almost militant watchdog outside the door, why not just nap in your office?" 

"Because then they'd know where to find me! I had a _really_ long night, so I ducked into an empty conference room for a few hours." He clapped Gordon's shoulder as he stepped past the man to gaze out the window over Gotham. "It can be hard to find time to yourself." 

"That I can understand." Gordon followed him to take in the impressive view. Gotham really was at its best seen from above. At least for a short while, it was possible to forget about the crime and corruption below and just see the city for what it could be, what it once was and would be again one day. "Though I would have thought that as the company's owner, you wouldn't have to come in at all if you didn't want to." 

"My father once told me that he preferred to work at his hospital rather than running Wayne Enterprises, and that he trusted the capable people who worked there to take care of his business. I'm inclined to agree. There are men and women more talented than I am at running a corporation, and I applaud them for doing such a good job." He tilted his head closer to Gordon without taking his eyes off the cityscape before them. "But that doesn't mean that I don't want to know what's going on with my company or to help shape its future." 

Gordon nodded slowly. "Too many people lack the wisdom to know the limits of their capabilities. Sometimes we have to rely on others to get us through. But good for you for staying involved." 

"Thanks. I figured that since I'm actually pitching a proposal to the board today, it might be a good idea not to fall asleep in the middle of the quarterly review beforehand." 

"That is definitely one thing that I miss about being a sergeant. No one expected me to attend four or five meetings a day or to give presentations." 

"My theory is that there's some sort of conspiring higher power that purposefully tries to make meetings as boring as possible. Of course, the irony of it is that if you don't have a say in the process, then you're left just waiting until someone from on high tells you what to do. Surely there has to be some sort of middle ground where we can do what we want without having to convince everyone else that it's a good idea." 

"There is – I think it's called a 'dictatorship'." 

"Touché." 

Wayne's smile was infectious, and Gordon actually felt himself relax for the first time since he'd heard the word 'baby'. "Listen, I'm sorry for dropping in on you unannounced. You sound like you have your hands full with other things." 

"No, no, no. Honestly, I didn't think that you would come, or I would have been here sooner. It was my mistake. I'm really happy that you could make a little time for me." 

"Unfortunately, a little time is all I have at the moment." Checking his watch, he saw that it was already a quarter of one. "I need to get back to the station at some point soon, but if you're still interested in grabbing a quick bite to eat?" 

"That's fine. I completely understand; you're a busy man. If you're in a hurry, we could order some food to be delivered, or there are some cafés on the mezzanine level. Or if you don't mind a little walking, there are several nice places only a couple of blocks away. We'll work around your schedule; whatever you want." 

Gordon's eyebrows rose in surprise at his words. It still rankled somewhat that he couldn't peg Wayne's angle, and for the moment, his curiosity was stronger than his desire to return to his desk. Even so, it was critical that he get out of the building. Wayne's office was almost oppressive in its opulence. "My secretary is always telling me that I work too much and should get away from my desk more often. You have no idea how happy it made her to hear that I was going out for lunch for once instead of ordering takeout. I don't think there's any harm in taking a little walk and stretching the legs a bit." 

"All right then! What's your opinion on Vietnamese food?" 

"I can't say that I have one. As long as it's not too spicy, I'm willing to try anything, I suppose." 

"A man of adventure; I like that. It's on me, that way if turns out you don't care for it, then no harm, no foul. 

Gordon watched as Wayne moved to depress a hidden button under the edge of his desk, and the entire wall behind it shifted to reveal another section of the room previously hidden. "Doors not good enough for you?" 

"You have to admit that this is way cooler. Besides, the funny thing about doors is that they make people want to open them. This way, I can have visitors who can nose around the things that I want them to see but not the things that I don't. Although, who would really want to poke around my laundry?" 

For a moment, Gordon wasn't sure what he meant by that until he followed Wayne into the back room. There was a private washroom off the short hall, and directly across from it was a full-sized wardrobe from which Wayne pulled a heavy overcoat. Dominating the end of the abbreviated walkway was a private elevator that was key-call operated with only three destinations: the top floor, the ground floor, and the basement. 

He almost asked why Wayne wanted private access to the basement, but the silence was broken before he could ask by a loud yawn from the other man. "Sorry," Wayne apologized with a sheepish grin. "I haven't been sleeping well lately." 

"That's what happens when you stay up all night. Are you sure you're all right? You don't look so good." The circles under Wayne's eyes were even more pronounced in the dimmer lighting of the elevator. 

"Yeah, I've just had a couple of late nights in a row. You know how it is. Eating something will perk me right back up." 

Even as Wayne was speaking, Gordon could see his society-image slipping into place. Both the weariness and excitement in his eyes were replaced with a neatly smiling guise as he tried to project an aura of being completely fine. Gordon was disappointed and sorry that he'd said anything. He had hoped that Wayne trusted him a little more than that, but there was no real reason for him to. Trust was something that was earned, and they had only just begun to get to know each other. 

Leaning back casually against the elevator wall, he said, "You know, you've got me curious about what it is that billionaires do with their time." 

"It depends: are you curious about rich businessmen in general, or am I just special?" Wayne took a step closer into his personal space and looked down on him with a grin. Gordon found himself inexplicably flustered as he was forced to tilt his head back slightly to meet the other man's eyes. As much as he wanted to return the question with a snappy comeback, he wasn't able to find his voice as Wayne leaned in even closer to him. Fortunately, he was spared any further awkwardness when the elevator doors opened with a soft _bing_ , and Wayne was already turning to leave. 

Gordon blew out a breath of air, unaware than he'd been holding it. He only hesitated a moment to shake his head clear before following after him. "In all honesty, I'd have to say that you're the first 'rich businessman' I've met who hasn't made me want to make up excuses to leave," he said, answering Wayne's question as he was led from the build through a private entrance. 

Wayne slowed and turned to face him with an indiscernible expression. After a moment, some of the earlier excitement returned to Wayne's eyes. "I think that has to be one of the best compliments I've ever received; thank you. Though you haven't really been seeing me at my best. And this place... all of this really isn't me." 

Once again, Gordon took a moment to look around him at the glittering structure of glass and chrome that he was inside. "No, it's no really 'me', either. I don't think I could stand working in a place like this." 

Leaning in closer to Gordon, Wayne confessed, "I don't really like working here, either. Fortunately, most of my work is outside the office: making face time with clients and backers and inspiring confidence in all the hard work that Fox does. _That's_ what I'm good at. But I bet you're right at home at police headquarters, right?" 

"I practically live there. Gerry likes to tease me, saying that I should change my permanent address to the MCU." Gordon's smile was more of a grimace since Barbara tended to agree with him, but she made certain to let him know she didn't think it was funny. "So if this place isn't you, where is?" 

"I don't really know." As they stepped outside, Gordon noticed that rather than pulling the collar of his coat tighter against the chill, Wayne squinted and raised a hand to block the sun's rays. A pair of sunglasses was pulled out and slipped on as he stalled to mull over Gordon's question. "I suppose if I had to pick a single place, I'd say the Badische Weisntrasse in Baden-Württemberg." 

"In Germany?" He didn't mean for his words to sound so disbelieving, but it was an unexpected response. He would have thought that Wayne's reply would be more akin to Gotham's Martini Park or The Spotlight, the sorts of fashionable establishments where the rich and famous went to have a good time. 

"Don't get me wrong, I love Gotham, and I wouldn't want to live anywhere else, but I think the Badische Weisntrasse was the last place I've been where I was really able to be myself." Wayne turned and pointed down the street in the direction they were to head. Again, Gordon was surprised, since it was in the opposite direction of the commercial district. 

"All right, you've got me. Why is that the place you think of? Do they not let the paparazzi in there or something?" 

It felt so good to be able to laugh. After months of constant vigilance and fighting with mobsters and street gangs, just being outside in the sunlight with someone he could talk to about mundane topics made Wayne feel so much better about everything. He actually had to push aside his sunglasses to wipe away a few tears as he laughed. "I'm sorry – sorry. If you've never been there, then I guess it isn't as funny. No, that isn't it at all. The paparazzi in Europe make our news reporters look like little kids with cell phone cameras." 

"Yeah, I've really grown to hate the press since getting promoted." Gordon eyed the other man curiously, wondering if Wayne was going to be okay. He'd been there before, when he'd gotten so little sleep that everything seemed hilarious, and Wayne looked on the brink of bursting out in another fit of laughter. "So what is it that you like about the place, then?" 

"When I was five or six, we used to take a lot of trips to England to visit my mother's grandparents. They'd retired to the southern coast there, and we must have gone a few dozen times that I can remember before they passed away. But we would always travel down through Germany before returning home from Bern. Any excuse for a history lesson: that was my father's motto. He owned a small estate in Baden-Württemberg. It was old family property from forever ago, and we would stay there anywhere from a few days to a couple of weeks, depending on their schedules." Wayne's expression became a little more distant as thought back on memories from a lifetime ago. "I've only been back there twice since my parents died, but there's a lot more of me there than there is here." 

"Seems to me that unless you're happy leading something of a double life and surrounding yourself with things that don't really interest you, the best thing to do is to change where you are and what you do." 

"I'm not going to leave Wayne Enterprises. It was my father's company, and it was his father's company, and I'll be damned before I let some snake like William Earle come in and take apart all their hard work in order to make a fortune selling tanks and rocket launchers to the military. That's not what they wanted, and it's not what I want." Wayne turned again, taking them further down another side street which became progressively more dingy the further along it they walked. 

"But what I want isn't necessarily what people want to see when they come into the office of a company owner. Pictures on the desk, objects of sentiment, those sorts of things make you feel good about the person, but not so good about their business sense. When it comes to investors and their money, they would rather give it to a heartless bastard who runs a smooth operation than a kinder man who might be swayed by emotion and good intentions." 

Gordon pulled his coat a little closer around him as they walked on. There wasn't as much wind here, but what little sunshine that was breaking through the clouds was blocked by the towering structures around them. "That's a bit pessimistic, don't you think?" 

There was a small laugh from the man beside him before Wayne replied, "It doesn't really matter. Lucius Fox can run things a hundred times better than I ever could, and I'm happy to let him. But Wayne Enterprises still needs to have my face on it to sell it to the investors. There is a noticeable and undeniable trend that every time I'm in the news for something, our stocks go up – which is impressive, considering the economy these days. Don't get me wrong, the company has done a lot for me in the last year, and I'm certainly not complaining about the opportunities I have there." 

"Not to change the subject, but where the hell are we going? There's nothing around here." 

"Yes there is. Right up there: Hoang Mai's. The owner immigrated here from Hanoi, and he makes the best _bun cha_ this side of the Pacific." 

"Dare I ask what that is?" 

"It's good, that's what it is." Wayne turned to Gordon with a cheeky grin before elaborating. "It's pork and noodles with sweet onions, bean sprouts, and shrimp on sort of a Vietnamese version of a salad. I promise, it's good; you'll like it." 

*****

"Okay, you were right." Gordon speared another slice of cucumber with his fork, not having been daring enough to try the slick, plastic chopsticks that had been offered to them. Unlike Wayne, who had gobbled his meal down like a man who hadn't eaten in days, Gordon still had a sizable portion of the rice vermicelli on his plate. 

The owner, a little old man who looked to be at least a hundred years old, had greeted Wayne enthusiastically when they had entered the hole-in-the-wall restaurant. He had carried on at length in Vietnamese at Wayne, who had stumbled along in his replies. It had secretly made Gordon feel good to know that there were things that the playboy didn't excel at. Even so, the man – whose name Gordon didn't have any illusions of being able to repeat – had seated them at the largest of the four tables in the tiny dining room, personally waiting on them and ensuring that they had double portions for their meal. 

It was a little disconcerting the way that Wayne sat there across from him, playing with his chopsticks and watching him eat. An annoying little 'I-told-you-so' smile was on his face, and it made Gordon shift uncomfortably in his seat. 

"So, tell me about this meeting you have to get back to later. What's the proposal you'll be giving?" 

"Do you want the long version or the short one?" he asked, not taking his eyes off of the commission even as he sipped at his tea. 

Checking his watch, Gordon compared it against the amount of salad still on his plate. "What's the short version like?" 

"I'm buying a cosmetics company, and I need to convince the board that it's a good investment for Wayne Enterprises to make." 

Gordon's mouth turned up in a sly grin. "A cosmetics company, huh? Buying it as a gift for a lady friend?" 

His question got a laugh out of Wayne. "No. There's no lady friend at the moment." 

"Okay, I'll bite. Why are you interested in buying a cosmetics company? It doesn't seem to gel with the image Wayne Enterprises has built for itself." 

After a moment's hesitation, Wayne leaned back in his chair and slung one arm over the back of it. His body was the picture of casualness, but on his face was an expression that Gordon was only just beginning to associate with the quick mind that lurked behind his façade. "My parents were good friends with the Sionis family. When I was younger, they would come over all the time, and their son – Roman – he and I became pretty good friends. After the shooting, they still made a point of keeping in touch. I wasn't the most grateful person then, but I never forget when people help me." 

Gordon looked up at him trying to evaluate the meaning behind his words, but he didn't know the man well enough yet to be able to determine what was being said between the lines. He didn't have time to give it as much thought as he would have like as Wayne drew in a slightly shaky breath and continued. 

"I just found out that they had died a few months ago. There was a terrible accident at their estate. It burned to the ground, and they were trapped inside. The police were never able to determine what had happened, and Roman was distraught by his parents' death. He got put in charge of his father's business, and things haven't been going well for him there. Roman never really had a head for business, and being so distracted by the death of his parents, he hasn't been making good decisions with the company. On top of everything else, his fiancée left him. He's just too upset to be thinking straight. There were some... accidents." 

That caught Gordon's attention. A mysterious fire, the death of a CEO, and the sudden changing of a company's ownership threw up about a dozen red flags in his mind, but it wasn't something in his jurisdiction. Probing for a few more details, he asked, "What sorts of accidents can you have with mascara?" 

"Why do you think PETA gets all up in arms over makeup being tested on animals? It's not something you want to be wrong about when you're putting it on your face. There were a _lot_ of zeros at the end of the settlement check." 

Gordon cringed. He couldn't imagine the sort of figure that Wayne would consider expensive. "I think it's really nice that you're trying to help your friend out, but usually helping an old buddy consists of giving his car a jump or coming over to water the plants while he takes a trip, not buying out his company because of bad debts." 

"Up until last year, it was making good money. Even in the bad economy, Janus Cosmetics was pulling in surprisingly positive returns every quarter. I think that with a little restructuring at the top, it can be turned around. Besides, I was thinking about expanding into the entertainment sector anyway. It wouldn't be a bad idea to have relations with a company that could supply the stage makeup and cosmetics that news anchors need while simultaneously giving guaranteed work back to Janus." 

"Your generosity knows no bounds." 

"Those are the terms I'm going to have to sell the idea in when I pitch it to the Board. I may be the majority shareholder, but things go a lot smoother when we're all in agreement. They won't care that he's a friend; they'll care about what the deal can do for us." All of his previous amusement drained from his face, and Wayne looked down into the tiny ceramic tea cup in his hands. "Unfortunately, to get their support, I already know that I'm going to have to replace Roman with a Board of Directors. I know that's going to hurt him." 

"But it's better than letting his company tank, right?" 

"It is, though he might not see it that way at first. I remember being mad as hell when I learned that William Earle had declared me dead so that he could take my father's company public and then buy it up. But it's the only way I can think of to keep Janus intact." His expression was surprisingly determined as he said, "After Roman's got his life back together, he can buy out my shares and then get the company back on track." 

"I may not know much about business, but I have a feeling you won't have too much trouble convincing the others to see your point of view." 

Wayne looked incredibly pleased by Gordon's statement, and he poured more tea from the kettle into both of their cups. "I really hope so. But let's not talk about business – or at least not my business. It's boring, and I have to put up with it too much as it is." 

"All right, then." That was one thing that he did understand completely: not wanting to talk about work when you had a moment of free time. "Not work, then. Do you have any plans for the holidays?" 

There was a moment of hesitation as Wayne's face went through a range of expressions as he searched for an answer. "I don't really celebrate the event any longer. There will be a company Christmas party tomorrow night, which will be great. If the champagne stops flowing, that means I'm doing something wrong. Beyond that, I'll probably sleep away the time until New Years and the next big party. I gave all the staff the two weeks off to be with family and friends. Well, everyone but Alfred. He refused to get the hell out. He was probably worried that I'd burn the penthouse down if he left. How about you? Surely your life has to be a little more exciting." 

Gordon poked listlessly at his salad, not really wanting to evaluate the state of his own life. "I'm still trying to get used to this whole promotion gig. I spent so many years on holiday rotations and fighting over who gets which block of time off that it feels odd having the whole weekend to myself. Only it's not going to be, not really." 

"The ten- and the twelve-year-old?" 

"No... Well, yes. There's nothing quite like being jumped on at five in the morning and being told that Santa came. Let me tell you, it was awkward the year that Babs realized that we didn't have a fireplace, so she kept trying to open all the windows so Santa could get in." As frustrating as it had been at the time, the memory made him smile. Both of his children were old enough to know better now, but they still insisted on leaving milk and cookies out because believing in Santa got them more presents under the tree. "I had planned on being home the twenty-fourth and twenty-fifth to be with Barbara and the kids, but now I have a feeling that we're going to be taking some extra time so that we can go to Chicago to spend it with Barbara's parents instead." 

Wayne wasn't able to hide his surprise at Gordon's words. With a note of concern in his voice, he said, "You'd better figure it out soon. There are only a two more shopping days left until the big day. The price of plane tickets will be unbelievable. But a real vacation sounds like a nice change for you; take some time and relax. Burning yourself out during your first six months in office won't do anyone any good." 

"You, sir, have obviously never been married. They're nice enough people, but there is nothing even remotely relaxing about being snowed in with the in-laws. This is going to be an especially bad trip." He scrubbed at his face for a moment as he let out a heavy sigh. 

"If you don't mind my asking, what's going to be so bad about it?" 

"Barbara's pregnant." Wayne nearly spilled his tea and had to move quickly to keep the cup from tipping over. Oddly enough, it made Gordon feel slightly better to watch the suave businessman fumbling with his drink. He wasn't the only one who had taken the news with such surprise. 

"I...uh... Congratulations?" It wasn't a smooth recovery by any means, but Wayne did his best to look sincere. It was disconcerting just how intensely jealous the news made him feel. Trying to muster a little more enthusiasm, he reached across the table to give the commissioner a slap on the arm. "Really, congratulations. That must be great news." 

"I suppose." Even after having a few days to think about the situation, he was still unable to even pretend to be pleased by what had happened. Not that he wanted to talk about _that_ with Wayne. 

Wayne's brow was furrowed in confusion as he tried to evaluate what he saw in Gordon's eyes. Leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table, he stated softly, "You don't look as happy about this as I would have thought. I take it this wasn't planned?" 

"I don't have time to take care of a _cat_ let alone a baby. I love both my kids dearly, but I am very, very happy that neither of them are in the baby stage any more. Crying as ones only form of communication, needing to be fed every two hours, changing diapers that are capable of holding the baby's weight in poop; these things are _not_ my idea of a good time." When spoken aloud, the idea sounded even worse than before. 

Wayne's nose wrinkled at the unpleasant thought of dirty diapers. "You certainly don't sell the idea of fatherhood well. What does Barbara think?" 

"Oh, she's ecstatic. She thinks that the pitter-patter of little feet will get me to stay at home more than I do." It was a sanitized version of the truth, but even so, he couldn't believe that he was airing his dirty laundry to Bruce Wayne, of all people. Wayne was a surprisingly engaging conversationalist, and there was something about him that made Gordon feel at ease. Of course, that in turn made him instantly suspicious as he still couldn't figure what Wayne's intentions were or why he would be so interested in him. 

"Listen, I don't mean to be a killjoy, but I should probably be getting back to the office. If I'm going to be leaving town for an extended period of time, then there's a lot of work for me to get done beforehand." Checking his watch again, he added, "And you should get ready for your proposal. A wrinkled shirt that smells of lunch – no matter how delicious – won't make a good impression." 

"Fair enough. I'm glad you liked the food. This is a great place, and more people should appreciate the mastery of the chef." Wayne gave a lengthy stretch then stood to collect their overcoats from the coat rack mounted to the wall near their table. "I hope we can do it again some time." 

As he stood to put his coat back on, Gordon watched as Wayne left a tip on the table for their waiter. It took the commissioner by surprise to see Wayne toss down a pair of fifties before wandering back to the counter to say goodbye to their host. Less than two years ago, he had been forced to sit and watch as his ex-partner, Flass, would regularly take money from store owners in return for mob 'protection'. Whether Wayne tipped the way he did to get the best service or because he simply didn't care about the money he tossed around so freely, it was the last act in a line of bizarre behaviors that made Gordon want to know more about just who Bruce Wayne was and what he had been doing in the decade since his disappearance.


	10. Chapter 10

~December 24~

"The duty roster says that you're not supposed to be here." 

Gordon pulled his gaze away from the bat-shaped symbol being reflected off a passing cloud in the night sky to focus on the man who had come up to stand beside him. "I told Barbara to take the kids up to her parents' house without me. I'm going to join them in the morning." 

It was late, later than they usually met, but he had wanted to wait regardless. Gordon had hoped that the other man wouldn't come, that even Batman would have somewhere else to be so late on Christmas Eve. Patting the rounded edge of the newly fixed floodlight to his left, he added, "And I felt like spreading some holiday hope and cheer before leaving for Chicago." 

Batman's only response to that was to take a few steps closer to Gordon and the machine. Reaching out, he touched the cold metal siding, though his fingers were protected from the elements by the thick gloves he wore. "I thought I gave you something less conspicuous to use to contact me when you need me." 

"You did." Gordon could be every bit as stubborn as his nighttime companion. "A couple of days ago, I was having a lunch meeting, and the person I was with reminded me of something. I'm really lucky to have people to spend the holidays with; not everybody does. I didn't want to call you out here so much as be around in case you _were_ out." 

There wasn't any hesitation before Batman replied gruffly, "I'll be out as long as Gotham needs me to be." 

"Everyone's entitled to a night off, even you. You should be at home with the people you care about." 

Batman's gaze followed the yellow-white light up to the cloudy sky. With all the lights of the city, the weak beam was hard to distinguish from all the other illumination. It was a fairly good representation of their situation. A beam of light reaching out from the darkness, refusing to be smothered, showing everyone who looked that decency still existed. "I'm exactly where I belong." 

Gordon moved closer to him, enough that he could reach out to touch the raised bat on the man's chest. As his fingertips brushing along the Kevlar plate, he was certain that at any moment, the Batman would knock his hand away and leave. When he did neither, Gordon let out a shaky breath which made a curling puff of steam between them. He could feel the other man's dark eyes evaluating him intently, but Batman made no move either to encourage or to push him away. 

"It's not fair, all the things that we ask of you without giving anything back in return. I wish I could tell you just how glad I am that you're here." Dropping his hand, Gordon turned once more to look out over Gotham. After a moment's hesitation, he added, "With me." 

The silence that followed wasn't unexpected. His friend had never been much of a conversationalist, but Gordon half-expected to have offended the other man with his confession. He wasn't sure how much time had passed without either of them saying anything until the Batman finally moved to stand directly behind him. Gordon could feel the armored plates pressing against his back through the material of his coat. Giving in to the impulsiveness of the moment, he leaned back to rest fully against the Batman's chest. When one arm came up to wrap around him, Gordon let his eyes sink shut and just stood there, enjoying the moment. 

"You've given me more than you think." Batman let his hand linger for only a moment, running his hand down the length of Gordon's side before giving his waist a gentle squeeze. "I'll be here when you get back." And then he was gone just as suddenly as he'd appeared. 

"Merry Christmas," Gordon whispered softly into the darkness.


	11. Chapter 11

~January 5~

Curious about who Bruce Wayne really was and what his motives were, Gordon decided to look into the man's history. Wayne had made it clear enough that he had investigated the commissioner, so as far as he was concerned, it was only fair to know what he was getting himself into. It may have been a slight abuse of police authority to set up a number of interviews with individuals familiar with Wayne's company, his subsidiary foundations, and the man himself, but compared to other abuses the office had seen in the past, Gordon didn't consider it to be an infraction to be worried about. 

As soon as he had gotten back from Chicago, Gordon had begun looking into Wayne Enterprises' recent activities. A year ago, Wayne had returned from lands unknown to create at least a half-dozen new companies and foundations in order to buy out the majority of Wayne Enterprises shares when it went public, but they weren't dummy corporations. Since then, each of Wayne's new organizations had begun growing into profitable businesses. The Wayne Foundation was one of several subsidiaries under the umbrella of Wayne Enterprises that had sprung into existence virtually overnight. There hadn't been any planning for it or even the slightest hint that a philanthropic foundation was going to be initiated. And yet, there it was, dumping money into various projects around Gotham. 

Gordon began his private investigation by calling up an old acquaintance of the Wayne family who was currently in business with the Wayne Foundation. Anthony Avella, Chairman of the Education Committee, one of the less slimy councilmen that Gordon had dealt with in the past, and the man had politely agreed to a private interview. He had known the family for years before the elder Wayne's death, making him an ideal starting place for his search. 

Avella had graciously offered to make some room in his schedule after the winter holidays were over, inviting Gordon to meet him at his office for coffee. After exchanging a few initial pleasantries about their respective holiday experiences, Gordon directed the conversation to the object of his concerns. "Bruce is quite the character," Avella stated, a slow smile spreading across his round face. "And I'll be upfront about it: I agreed to this meeting because of the sudden interest he seems to have taken regarding you, Commissioner." 

"I beg your pardon?" Gordon looked up from his notebook in surprise. 

"He first came to me, oh, maybe eight months ago. Said that he remembered how highly his mother had spoken of me when I was still a superintendent, and that he was interested in starting a new project – asked if I'd be willing to back him on it. Well, I can't think of anyone with any sense who'd say 'no' to Bruce Wayne, especially when he's the one willing to finance the endeavor." 

As the councilman leaned further back in his chair, trying to recall the details of their conversation, Gordon was increasingly reminded of his grandfather: a sweet old man with an inviting disposition, a sharp wit, and a painfully slow manner of getting to the point that made Gordon want to fidget impatiently. Years of experience kept him still in his seat, however. It was still too early in the game to push his luck. Instead, he simply attempted to redirect the conversation. "What sort of proposal did he have in mind, and what exactly did he have to say about me?" 

"That's the thing – I can't recall any specifics about it, just that over the last few months, he's been dropping your name a lot. Says you're doing a fine job and how pleased he's been with the way things are going." Avella shook his head and chuckled softly to himself. "It's amazing how much that boy has grown. The first time I met him, he was only knee-high. Sharp as a tack, that one was. My oldest brother's daughter had a son roughly his age at the time, and I remember thinking they were like night and day. William couldn't sit still for anything, always running and jumping and carrying on, but not Bruce. He was an incredibly well-mannered child." 

"That doesn't seem to be the case anymore, though." Gordon held the other man's gaze, trying to get a feel for his honest opinion on the matter. Wayne obviously tried to hide a lot of himself from the public eye, and Gordon was curious to see how much of himself he let others see. 

From the mournful expression on the councilman's face, Gordon suspected that it wasn't much. "Thomas used to bring him along to board meetings when Bruce was maybe five years old. He had a little suit and tie, and he would sit in the corner listening intently to everything that people said. I swear that he would have been taking notes and giving people advice if he'd been allowed to sit at the big table with everyone else. Thomas was always doing things like that. He and Martha were constantly letting Bruce come along to places where children would normally never be interested, and he'd always have a polite word or an intelligent question. I used to think that he was really going to make something of himself." 

"But not anymore?" 

"His third year in at Princeton, and he just disappeared! But you know that. Everyone in Gotham knows that the city's most promising citizen up and vanished for seven years. He was declared dead when no word came by the sixth year." 

"So you have no idea where he was all that time?" 

"No, and he won't tell anyone, either. Not like anyone can really _make_ him talk about it. Most people don't really care. It was good gossip when he first returned, but Bruce has been doing enough with himself that the question has sort of been swept under the rug. I can't tell you too many specifics, though. We've only been working together the few months or so." 

Steering them back to his initial question, he asked again, "What _have_ you been working on with him?" 

Avella sat up a little straighter in his chair, his face brightening with a proud smile. "The Martha Wayne Foundation has just signed a deal that will provide steady job opportunities for the city. The Foundation is sponsoring the building of four new schools in underprivileged areas of Gotham. _Two_ of them are going to be in the Narrows. Can you imagine any other company wanting to put forward the money for that kind of an undertaking?" 

Truthfully, he couldn't. And he knew that the police department wasn't the only area in Gotham where the budget had been stretched thin. No wonder the man looked so ecstatic about the building proposal. "I can't imagine many teachers would want to work there right now, though." 

"Ah, that's the second part of the operation. The Foundation is going to offer a full loan-repayment program for teachers willing to remain in Gotham for three years minimum as teachers specifically in these new schools." Avella looked positively giddy as he slapped the edge of his desk and laughed. "It's going to be a spectacular project: schools to be built, supplies and furniture to go in them, and incentive for teachers of real worth to work in the Narrows. Bruce may not be the serious young man he used to be, but he does understand that education is fundamental to prosperity." 

"So Wayne just made a ridiculously large donation to the police department and now he's funding a bunch of new education initiatives? I know you're no longer as closely associated with Wayne Enterprises as you used to be, but don't you think Mr Wayne might be overstepping his means just a little?" 

The man's smile turned mischievous, and Gordon was nervous about what he was going to have to say. "That's just two of his projects, Commissioner. The Thomas Wayne Foundation is funding a new hospital where Gotham General used to be and several smaller clinics besides that. I have to admit that I was really surprised when he came to see me. I don't know what finally shook him out of the stupor he's been in the last few years. Maybe he finally felt thirty creeping up on him, and he decided to buckle down." 

"Not from what I've seen of him." Gordon groaned internally, unable to believe that the boy he'd met once was already turning thirty. It was as hard to believe as the idea of a kid in his twenties having that much money and power. 

"Well, something's happened to him. In the last year, he's created the Wayne Foundation, the Thomas Wayne Foundation, the Martha Wayne Foundation, Wayne Medical, and Wayne Biotech – all of which are doing remarkably well this quarter. He's funneling an incredible amount of money into a lot of ventures, and I for one hope he keeps giving some of it to me. The Education Department is high on the list of things to receive budget cuts, and as long as crazy whackos keep blowing things up, the budget will continue to tighten." 

Gordon sagged a little in his seat. He had no idea what to make of what he'd learned. "Wayne Enterprises is donating to the police department, the Thomas Wayne Foundation is building hospitals, the Martha Wayne Foundation is building schools, and Wayne Medical is running the new hospitals..." 

"And Wayne Biotech is putting all the equipment into the clinics as well as starting a research company. _And_ Wayne Industries is having the mothballs brushed off it in order to do the construction for all these new sites." 

A frown tugged at Gordon's face. On one hand, it seemed like Bruce Wayne was spending a fortune trying to improve the quality of life of those in Gotham, but on the other, it also looked like he now had half the city in his pocket. Gordon had a better idea of what Wayne was doing with his time and money, but the question still remained: what kind of a person _was_ Bruce Wayne?


	12. Chapter 12

~January 7 - January 12~

Five minutes into his second interview, Gordon regretted his decision to speak with the fashion model and cable commercial star, Bambi. No last name. "Like Madonna, but younger," she had told him over the phone. Simply sitting across the table from her was mildly offensive. 

"Thank you for seeing me on such short notice, Miss Fletcher." 

"Now, Commissioner, I told you before. It's just 'Bambi'." She smiled at him flirtatiously as she crossed her legs and batted impossibly long eyelashes at him. "And I completely understand your curiosity. Lots of people have asked me about my relationship with Brucie, but I never expected the _police_ to get involved." 

"As I told you before, this isn't a police investigation or even a formal inquiry. I'd just like to ask you a few questions about Mr Wayne. You're not under any obligations, and you can refuse to answer anything at any point." 

Bambi shook her head, long brunette locks swaying around her face. In an almost martyred tone, she said, "You may ask me anything. I have nothing to hide." 

It was difficult not to sigh or to pinch the bridge of his nose. Instead, he flipped open his notebook and asked the first of his questions. "How did you and Mr Wayne meet?" 

"I was at _La Reve_ waiting for a couple of girlfriends to arrive, and he just came up to me. He said that such a beautiful woman shouldn't be dining alone. I almost told him to buzz off – lots of men approach me all the time, you know, trying to pick me up. But he was different; he was so sincere." 

"Was he really?" Gordon doubted that anyone would approach a woman like this with innocent sincerity in mind. Aside from a pretty face, of which a man like Wayne could have his choice, there didn't seem to be anything else to her. 

"Most guys are really fake, you know? They only want one thing. When we talked, Brucie and I, we really connected. You know? He asked me questions and actually _listened_ when I spoke. Most guys are totally shallow and never listen to what a real woman has to say." 

"If the two of you had such chemistry, why break it off?" 

"He wasn't ready for commitment." 

*****

"You understand, Ms Harker, that you're not under any obligation to answer if you don't want to?" 

The blonde nodded and sipped at her coffee. "You said on the phone you wanted to know about Bruce and me?" 

"That's right. Why don't you just tell me, in your own words, what he's like?" 

"Bruce is cultured and refined, but at heart, he's such a boy. That's why we ended up splitting." She leaned forward to whisper in a confidential tone. "He is _not_ as experienced with women as the media would have you believe." 

Gordon nearly choked on a mouthful of coffee. " _Excuse_ me?" 

"Not that I'm saying he was bad, not at all! But everyone knows that the fourth date is the sex date. If you haven't done it by then, the relationship isn't going to go anywhere. Well, he was still acting on the fourth date like it was the second: holding doors, pulling out chairs. He's the only man I've ever waited until the sixth date for. He was polite, kind, funny, _painfully_ shy, but I knew it wasn't going to go anywhere. The fourth-date rule never lies. It was fun while it lasted, though. We both got a couple of good months out of it." 

"Aside from being 'shy', did he have any unusual habits? Anything that made you suspicious?" 

"Weird stuff...?" Her head tipped back as she thought, and one long fingernail tapped an unconscious beat against the tabletop. "I guess I thought it was weird that he never let anyone stay over at his place. I know a couple of other girls he's dated, and they've mentioned the same thing, come to think of it. Even after a late party, either he or this old butler guy would drive us home. If the party was at our place, he wouldn't stay there, either." 

*****

"He's a loser, that's what's 'off' about him." The woman, this one a model of some sort, took a long drag off her cigarette before elaborating. "After the third time he just up and left in the middle of a date or party, I dumped his ass. My agent thought it would be good press to be seen with him, but if he's not going to pay any attention to me, why should I bother?" 

"Did he give any sort of explanation about why he would leave so suddenly?" 

"Oh, he always had reasons. He'd call me a day or two later, apologizing. At least he had that much decency. Some crisis was always pulling him away. Anyone with that many emergency situations isn't someone I'd want to be dating, don't you agree?" 

Gordon held his tongue. He was unable to count the number of times he'd been pulled away from his family because of a shooter or someone stumbling over a dead body. In the end, Barbara had agreed with her. "Did you notice any trends in how he spent his money? Any unusual activity that maybe didn't seem entirely aboveboard?" 

"He always throws outrageously expensive parties. I've been to some killer raves, parties in Hollywood, been to movie stars' houses. This was a whole other level. Whether it was for four or four hundred, it was always ridiculously overdone." 

"Drugs?" 

"I saw a few people trying to sneak in some coke a couple of times, but it never lasted long. Bruce has some sort of moral objection against them. Booze is different, though. The alcohol never stops flowing at a Wayne party." 

"He's a big drinker, then?" 

She laughed as if he had asked an incredibly dense question. "Bruce is never without a drink in his hand. Even with two or three girls hanging off him, he's still got a champagne or brandy in the works. Aside from disappearing all the time, he never acted like other alcoholics I've dated. He never got angry with me or tried to hit me or anything. He did get terrible hangovers, though. He'd sleep half the day away to make up for partying all night." 

*****

"What sort of friends does Wayne keep?" 

Besides being incredibly attractive, as all of Wayne's ex-girlfriends were, this one was both intelligent and insightful, being a medical student. Gordon hoped to gain some actual information from her, as opposed to the opinions of the other women he'd spoken with so far. 

"Do you mean close, personal friends, or the people that he associates with?" 

"Either. Did any of them strike you as being particularly unsavory?" 

"Only in that some of them were loudly opinionated, both socially and politically." Her smile was attractive and confident, and Gordon found himself smiling along with her. "Besides politicians and businessmen, he knows a lot of people who own nightclubs, pubs, bars. They might be 'unsavory' by some standards, but none of the places he took me seemed dodgy, if that's what you mean. As for personal friends, I'm not convinced that he really has any. That's why I still try to keep in touch with him, even though we're not going out any longer." 

"I've spoken with a number of people who know Mr Wayne quite well. What would make you say that he doesn't have any friends?" 

"Besides the family valet, it didn't seem like there was anyone _close_ to him. No school buddies wanting a beer at the pub, no pictures of family or friends on the mantle at home. Bruce would throw huge parties, hundreds of people would be there, and he would know them all by name, know details to make them all feel comfortable and happy to be there. But friends? He never introduced me to anyone I'd call a 'friend' besides Alfred." 

"Alfred." Gordon checked his notes briefly. "Alfred Pennyworth, the butler of the house?" 

She shrugged noncommittally and nodded. 

"What did you call him?" 

"A 'valet'. A butler cares for the master's house; a valet cares for the master himself. I don't think you Americans really make a distinction between the two, though." 

"In the time that you've been together, did you notice anything particularly odd about him?" 

"Commissioner, Bruce Wayne was a billionaire at the age of eight because his parents were murdered in front of him. He's a very odd man, but in my opinion, he's much more adjusted than he has any right to be." 

*****

Bambi hesitated before responding. She twirled a brunette curl around one finger several times as she thought. "I suppose the oddest thing about him was that he never looked at a bill. Ever. Restaurant, movie, the theater, it didn't matter where he was, he never asked the price of anything. He'd drop a bill or two down and move on as if he couldn't be bothered." 

"You thought his spending habits were strange?" 

"Yeah, he'd tip _way_ too much, you know? Like, up to a thousand percent. I saw him give a bellboy a Benjamin for bringing his car around. At first, I thought maybe he was just trying to impress me by flashing his money, but he never looked for any sort of comment or approval. You don't think he was trying to launder money at those places, do you? That's why he was giving those people so much cash?" 

Inwardly, Gordon let out a stream of curses. Not only was his investigation going nowhere, but the only 'lead' he was getting was some made-up allegation that Bambi had probably picked up from watching _Law and Order_. "I doubt that. Money laundering is usually done on a much larger scale. He would have to go to restaurants a couple hundred times a day to circulate enough cash to be productive. Unless you saw him passing large envelopes of cash to the maitre d'?" 

"Oh. No, nothing like that." She actually sounded disappointed that her idea had been rejected. "But don't you think it's odd that he would associate with the _staff_? Oh! He _did_ exchange a lot of cash on several occasions. Any place that we went that he really liked, he would buy. In the couple months that we were together, he bought a hotel, a restaurant, and a dance theater." 

That caught Gordon's attention. Buying a hotel was nothing like generously tipping the wait staff. "I'll look into that. Thank you for all your help this morning." 

"It was a pleasure, getting to assist Gotham's finest." She sent another flirty smile in his direction. "It's not every day a girl gets called upon to do her civic duty." 

Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, Gordon said, "I've only got one more question. If you could sum up Bruce Wayne in a word or two, what would you say?" 

"Sweet, nice... _totally_ fuckable." 

*****

"...How would you describe Bruce Wayne as a person?" 

"I suppose I'd say Bruce is fun. He's funny and polite and as nice as you could hope for." 

*****

"...What is your opinion of Wayne, overall?" 

"Aside from being an inconsiderate ass when it comes to women, he's pretty nice when he is there for you. Funny, and not too hard on the eyes." 

*****

"Gay." 

"I beg your pardon?" Her response took him entirely by surprise. 

"He's too perfect to be straight. Wayne will take you out, kiss your hand, be the charming figure that every girl dreams about. There's never an inappropriate touch, unless you ask for it, there's never a sexist remark, none of the objectification, and he doesn't seem to expect the usual ego stroking that most men require." 

"Being a gentleman makes him gay?" 

"It's more than that. I've seen him out with two, three, _four_ women at a time, and he barely touches them. He's very obviously looking for a front to cover something. The most logical answer is that he's queer. I guess it could be something else, but no one that perfect is straight – no offense intended, Commissioner." 

"None taken. Is that why you broke up with him?" 

"Actually, I wasn't the one who ended our relationship; I was happy with the way things were going. He said that I deserved someone better, someone who could make me happy." 

*****

"All right, Jim." Stephens shut the door to the commissioner's office behind him as he let himself into the room. "That was, if I'm not mistaken, your fifth mystery lunch out with someone, and you don't look terribly happy about whatever it was you two were talking about over the salad. Care to let me in on what the deal is?" 

It wasn't surprising that his friend had finally decided to ask about the numerous side trips Gordon had been making over the last few weeks. No one else seemed to have noticed the change in his routine, but Stephens had known him a lot longer than the others in the department. Setting aside the report he'd been about to open, he said simply, "Wayne." 

"You've been sneakin' off to have lunch with Bruce Wayne?" Stephens raised a skeptical eyebrow at his friend and pulled over a chair to sit down. "I can see why that might burn you out a little. The man lives in his own universe, and he has no concept of what's goin' on around him. That's not what's been eating you, is it? What, did he say that since he gave us a donation, you owe him some of your time or something?" 

Gordon opened the bottom drawer to his desk and pulled out the case file he'd been compiling on the man. While it had begun as something to keep his mind busy between cases, he'd managed to build up lot of conflicting information on Wayne. What had started out as a mild curiosity had ended up a real puzzle that was gnawing at him. "Yes and no. He did ask me to do lunch with him a couple of weeks ago, but it wasn't as bad as you might think. It wasn't at all like what I was expecting from him." 

"Weird, but okay. So what about him's got your spidey sense tingling?" 

Leaning back in his chair, Gordon stared up at the ceiling and tried to find the words to explain what he'd been doing without sounding like a crazy stalker. "I can't really explain it yet, but he's definitely hiding something. Something big." 

That caught Stephens' attention, and he sat up a little straighter. Gordon was trying to pick his words carefully, and that wasn't like him. The commissioner was the sort who said what he thought and got things done; that was part of what Stephens liked about him. "You think he's in on something illegal?" 

"Honestly, I have no idea, but it seems very probable. For reasons still completely unknown, the man seems to have taken a liking to me, and I don't want to get wrapped up with him if he's just trying to use me as a front for something else. I can't imagine what, but then again, I also can't imagine why a man like him would give a damn about me unless there's something going on that I'm not seeing." 

Pointing to the file in front of Gordon, he asked, "You mind if I take a look at that?" 

"Not at all. Maybe you can find whatever it is that I'm missing." He pushed the folder across his desk towards Stephens. "I've talked to friends and acquaintances, I've gone through old records and news reports, and everything I look at seems to paint a different picture of the man." 

"The beginning's the best place to start. What do you _know_ about him that's not just speculation?" 

"The media puts a pretty flamboyant spin on everything having to do with the family, so it's taken a bit of digging to weed out the hype. But this is the best that I can figure: as a young child, he was a model kid. Everyone's pretty much in agreement about that. He was quiet, did what he was supposed to, smart, a quick study. Real Mensa material. Everyone who knew him assumed he'd make it big, even better than his father." 

Stephens face scrunched up in disgust. "There's something completely unfair about being rich, good looking, _and_ brilliant. But having met him, he sure doesn't seem like the sharpest tool in the shed by any means." 

"He does seem that way, doesn't he." Gordon's tone said that he didn't believe it, though. "So here's a kid with a bright future in front of him. Then, November 1987, _boom_. Mommy and Daddy get shot, and the kid gets seriously messed up. He stops behaving like he used to, starts drifting in school, becomes uninterested in everything he used to do, starts getting into fights though nothing too serious." 

"Sounds to me like he just became a teenager." Flipping through the file some more, his eyes widened. "So despite all that, he still managed to get into Princeton, huh? Pre-law track, too. Must be nice having money." 

"He may have gotten in, but he never finished. In '99, Wayne just dropped off the face of the planet. There's nothing on him after that, and I mean _nothing_. No credit card use, no stamps in his passport, no withdrawals from an ATM, not a damned whisper anywhere. The feds were called in, but they couldn't find him; he never called anyone; nothing. And he won't talk to anyone about it now. It seems that since he generates enough amusing gossip as it is, no one's ever felt a need to press him about it." 

"Well, I agree with you: it seems unlikely that he'd drop off the radar that long without being up to something sketchy. He's got enough money that he wouldn't have any trouble having his records falsified. Hey—This is weird. So he was gone, but he kept paying his taxes?" 

"The family butler was named his guardian after his parents were shot. Alfred Pennyworth, he was the one taking care of all the estate's finances until Wayne resurfaced." 

Stephens set the file aside and looked at the commissioner with a confused expression. He could see why Gordon was so interested now; Wayne was a real mystery. "So no one knows where he was or what he was doing. He just showed back up one day. But what changed? Why did he come back _then_?" 

Gordon nodded slowly, mentally working through the information he had on the man. "He had been declared dead for almost a year, but that didn't seem to bother him – assuming that he even knew about it. The only thing at that specific time that I've found is that his company was being sold off. The... I don't know what you call the official title, but the man who had been put in charge of Wayne Enterprises had decided to go public with the company and sell off the shares, presumably so that he could buy it out. Wayne told me about that. He said it really pissed him off. He outbid this Earle person and bought up most of the shares of the company so that it would still be under his control." 

"So he musta been keepin' tabs on things back home to come swoopin' back in once the family empire was threatened." Stephens opened up the file again to flip back to the section Gordon had compiled on Wayne's business ventures. "Though he doesn't seem to have stopped with just Wayne Enterprises. He's been buying up property all over the city, according to this. But it doesn't seem to make much sense. Schools and hospitals aren't the sort of bling billionaires buy. Now the restaurants and hotels make more– No way. He bought his own racetrack? Seriously?" 

"I suppose when you own Lamborghinis and Ferraris, you want somewhere to drive them." Gordon shrugged. Trying to figure the inner workings of Wayne's mind was giving him a headache. "It's better than him going a hundred down the freeway." 

"Okay, this one sounds more like Wayne: the news article says he bought the _El Rosario_ hotel so that he could swim in the lobby fountain with Swedish babes, according to eyewitness reports. Classy." He flipped through a few more before looking up at Gordon. "You've put a lot of work into this for just being a bad vibe about the guy." 

"It's only fair. He made it very clear that he looked into my records first. And I've been all over trying to find what it is about him. I've talked to friends, business acquaintances, old flames, and I've got nothing. As far as they're concerned, the man is squeaky clean. I managed to speak with the four most serious girlfriends Wayne's had in the last couple years, and aside from a general complaint of commitment issues, they all think he's great. When asked to sum up their opinions of him, 'nice' was the prevailing sentiment, though he was also described as 'dreamy' and 'fun'." 

"What a louse. He sounds like a terrible person." Stephens' grin earned him an eye roll from the commissioner. 

"Tell me about it. The best leads I got from any of them were that he _might_ be laundering money because he tips well—" Gordon paused to let Stephens have his laugh. When the detective finally motioned for him to continue, he added, "And another woman speculated that he was gay because, quote, 'no one that perfect is straight – no offense intended, Commissioner,' end quote." 

Stephens' laughter doubled at his friend's misfortune, and it took a minute for him to be able to get himself back under control. "I'm sorry, but you gotta admit that's hilarious! You'd better be careful, Jim, it sounds like he's turned his amorous attentions to you. " 

"Yeah, right. The guy's dated more supermodels than Barbara has pairs of shoes." Gordon looked hopefully into the depths of his coffee mug as if to will a refill to appear, but it remained just as empty as it had been before he'd left for lunch. "I really have no idea what to think about this one, Gerry. He seems to be clean, but all the evidence tells me that there's no way he possibly can be. And this is the weirdest part—" 

"There's more?" 

"I think I really enjoyed the time we spent together." Gordon's tone was just as surprised-sounding now as when he had first realized how enjoyable it had been. "I felt so... comfortable with him. It could have been you sitting across the table from me. I thought he was exaggerating when he said that his image was good for Wayne Enterprises, but if he makes all his clients feel that way, it's no wonder the company's doing so well." 

"Let me get this straight. The entire basis of this incredibly unofficial breach of privacy is that, while Wayne is a great big bag of crazy who may or may not be gay – neither of which is actually a crime in the state of New York – he _is_ both nice _and_ fun to be with? That's the extent of your case? This is just a suggestion, but don't let anyone else know about what you've been up to. I agree, it sounds fishy. Wayne seems like such an irresponsible party boy that I wouldn't be surprised if he were a pawn in someone else's larger game. I mean, really, billionaire playboys just don't care about schools being built in the Narrows." 

"I really don't think that he's working for any of the crime bosses, if that's what you're implying." 

"Here's an idea that's kind of far out there, but you could just ask him what the interest in you personally is all about." 

"Oh, I thought of that. He says he thinks I'm a 'good guy'." 

"That's because you are. Maybe that's what he's looking for in you. Someone who'll be nice to him, but won't always say 'yes' to everything he says and does just because he's Bruce Wayne." Stephens leaned closer to his friend. "Listen, Jim. It may not be a bad idea to associate with Wayne. If he's on the level, then having him as a friend would be good for you both. God knows we could use some good press around here, and the media flocks around him every time he smiles. And if he _is_ up to something, then you'll have a chance to find out what it is about him that's been eating at you." 

"I don't know... Like you said, he hasn't actually done anything wrong that I can prove. It seems like bad form to act like a friend only to spy on him. I don't think I want to do that." 

"Bruce Wayne would be so lucky to have you as a friend. You really are a good guy, Jim." 

"You're not so bad yourself." Gordon couldn't help flushing slightly at the compliment. "But if it turns out Bruce really _is_ too perfect to be straight, I'm going to tell him about how nice _you_ are and give him your home number."


	13. Chapter 13

~January 19~

After four weeks, Wayne gave up on waiting for Gordon to come see him again. While he knew that the commissioner had been out of town and no formal arrangements had been made to get together again, Wayne took it upon himself to drop by police headquarters shortly before what was traditionally considered "lunchtime". The night before had been surprisingly uneventful, and he had actually managed to catch up on his sleep a little. That and the thought of seeing Gordon again had a smile on his face stretching from ear to ear. It didn't escape his notice that he was the only person in the station's waiting room in a cheerful mood, which was understandable: people didn't usually go to the police because things were going well for them. Even so, it was far too nice a day not to be in a good mood. Sometime since Batman had retired for the evening, a fine layer of snow had fallen, covering some of the grit and grime of the city in a pleasant blanket of white. 

The one thing to dampen his mood was the fact that he only managed to make it a few steps into the precinct's waiting room before the first person began gawking at him. Falcone had certainly been right when he'd said that Bruce Wayne would have to travel a long way to find someone unfamiliar with him. Not wanting to expend any more energy faking his outward persona than absolutely necessary, Wayne didn't bother taking off his sunglasses as he strode up to the desk sergeant on duty. 

"Good morning!" Wayne lounged against the edge of the high desk and waited patiently for the officer to look up from her report and acknowledge him. 

Rather than looking up, she heaved a sigh and grabbed a blank incident report form. "Name?" 

"Wayne, Bruce." Silently, he counted off the seconds until her head snapped up with wide eyes. 

She had made it all the way through the fourth letter of his name; it must have been a busy morning, Wayne decided. Flashing her a charming smile only caused the sergeant to fluster even more. "I, uh, I, what seems to be the problem, Mr Wayne? I mean, what can I do for you?" 

"I was hoping to be able to speak with Commissioner Gordon." He leaned in closer to her. "Of course, if he's busy, I don't mind waiting down here with you until he has a moment." 

"I'm... not certain what the commissioner's schedule is like. If you'd like to take a seat, I'll inquire, and someone can assist you shortly." 

Wayne was pleased by her smooth recovery. Cops who were easily distracted didn't tend to fare well in Gotham. "Thank you very much." He tilted his head to examine her shield closely before adding, "Judy. What a lovely name. I'll just wait over there; take your time." 

Several other people in the waiting area had noticed him and were already whispering among themselves. More than one person had a cell phone out taking pictures. The last thing they needed was some sort of three ring circus with cameras and media. "Actually, Mr Wayne, it might be better if you waited inside." 

"If that's what you think is best." 

"I'll buzz you in. Go through those doors and immediately on your left will be an empty conference room. You can wait there. I think you'll find it's a little quieter." 

*****

Maggie Sawyer, captain of the Major Crimes Unit, was not nearly as amused by the day's peculiar turn of events as other members of her team seemed to be. So far, at least four patrolmen and two officers had "needed" to check in on Wayne before she had even learned that he was downstairs. Their unexpected guest had been kept waiting over half an hour as what seemed like the entire station had attempted to find excuses to be near Conference Room One. Without so much as a courtesy call, Wayne had just strolled in off the streets and turned her neatly organized world on its end. That didn't win him any points in her book. 

Fortunately, she knew that the commissioner was currently winding down a meeting with his chief financial advisor. With the unexpected addition of Wayne's generous donation, Gordon was forced to go over all budgeting issues with their accountant yet again to distribute the funds. Meaning, the commissioner would have been willing to cut off his own leg for an excuse to get away. Because she cared about Gordon, Sawyer was willing to interrupt his meeting rather than giving Wayne a piece of her mind. 

Outside the commissioner's office, Sawyer perched herself on the edge of his secretary's desk. "Think they'll be going into overtime in there?" 

Stacy shrugged uncertainly. "They ordered another refill on coffee ten-fifteen minutes ago, but I think if they don't finish soon, they might go into sudden death." 

"Well, the Commish has got a visitor downstairs, so I was wondering if it would be safe to interrupt yet." 

"I didn't have anything down for him this morning." Stacy's face turned down in a frown, and she reached for her planner. "Business or pleasure?" 

"Dunno. This one's a bit of a surprise. I'll just go let him know, and he can decide if he wants to sneak away or if the dreaded accountant is preferable. Thanks for the info." 

"Any time." 

Sawyer rapped loudly on the door before letting herself in. It wasn't Stranski's fault that no one in the department liked him, but as an accountant, he was only a small step up from being a lawyer. While he served a much needed purpose, more often than not, doing his job well usually meant that the rest of the department's lives became harder. That being the case, she didn't feel guilty about interrupting or lying to free her friend. 

"Bad news, Boss. Your next appointment's early. He says that something's come up at the office, and he won't be able to meet with you for at least a week if you can't squeeze him in now." 

"Oh." Almost positive that he didn't have any meetings beyond the usual departmental ones, Gordon could have kissed her for concocting a distraction for him. "Mr Stranski, I am truly sorry, but duty calls. Do you think you can crank through these numbers on your own, maybe draw up a couple of proposals that we can go through together, later?" 

The other man tried to protest even as he was being dismissed. "I would much rather be able to speak with you directly—" 

"You have such a talent with figures, I'm sure that I can trust you with this. I'll have my secretary ring your office with a few times that I'm free, and we'll work this back in just as soon as possible. Thank you so much, Mr Stranski, for all your diligence in this matter." 

Admitting defeat as gracefully as possible, Stranski thanked the commissioner for his time and promised to work up a few models to be faxed over later. 

"That sounds like an excellent plan. And I hope to see you again just as soon as possible." Gordon stood and ushered the man to the door, shutting it behind him. After a moment's hesitation, Gordon thumped his head softly against the doorpost. "I really hate that man." 

"It's not his fault," Sawyer stated, moving to make herself comfortable in the chair that Stranski had just vacated. "It must be hard to work in a profession where the vast majority of the people around you dislike you on principle." 

"Maybe..." Turning to face her, Gordon already felt lighter of heart. He even managed a smile as he asked, "To what do I owe the honor of this rescue mission?" 

"You really do have a visitor. He's outside being fussed over by half the station. He didn't have an appointment, but he seems to feel confident that you'll want to see him." 

"As long as it's not the mayor, a lawyer of any type, or a crack-head with a gun, I suddenly seem to have some free time on my hands." There weren't many people who got fused over to that degree, and it made Gordon slightly nervous. "It's not someone from IA, is it?" 

"It's Bruce Wayne." 

Gordon turned to her, mouth open as he floundered for a moment. "Did he say what he wanted?" 

"See, you're not nearly surprised enough. I may as well have told you that the President was here to see you, and you just ask if he said what he wanted." Pointing an accusatory finger at him, Sawyer stated, "You've been holding out on me, Boss." 

"I would never," he replied in a sarcastic tone. "Wayne and I have met a few times, briefly, but I have no idea what he'd be doing here unless he was mugged or... I can't think of an 'or'. Did he say anything?" 

"Only that he hoped to see you. He's spent about the last thirty or forty minutes flirting with every female officer at the station. Some of the guys, too, if you believe the scuttlebutt. I only just got told he was here, though, or I would have been up sooner." 

"You don't sound very happy he's here. Do you not like him?" 

"I only looked in on him to make sure it really was who people were saying it was, but if you want my professional opinion, I'd say he was stoned out of his mind. He's wearing dark sunglasses _inside_ the building, and he has the loopiest grin plastered all over his face." 

"From what I've seen, that's normal for him." Jokingly, he added, "Besides, he's rich. It's far more fashionable to be doing coke." 

Sawyer snorted and strode purposefully to the door. The sooner Gordon met with Wayne, the sooner she'd be able to restore order to the precinct – and to weasel out of him the real purpose of the billionaire's visit. "So I can tell him you're free to see him?" 

"That's fine, yeah. Garcia would have my head if I snubbed the local philanthropist with a loose hold on his checkbook." Checking his watch, Gordon changed his mind. "On second thought, don't bother. I'll just go down and meet him. I could stand to get out of here for a while. Which room is he waiting in?" 

*****

As soon as he had come down to the first floor of the precinct, Gordon was unsurprised to find that nearly a dozen loitering officers suddenly remembered important tasks requiring their attention. Sawyer's assessment didn't seem to be overly exaggerated by the number of embarrassed looks he saw as people hurried back to their desks. Not that he could blame them; Wayne was an intriguing individual. Though, if he wanted to keep productivity from crashing completely for the day, he'd need to get the man out of the building. 

"I'm sorry to have kept you waiting so long, Mr Wayne," Gordon said as he let himself into the conference room. He watched with a curious eye as the other man stood and extended a hand to him. Shaking it firmly, Gordon was surprised at how honestly he added, "It's good to see you again." 

Quickly, Wayne took off his sunglasses and pocketed them, as if having forgotten that he still had them on. As he did so, Gordon was pleased to see that he didn't appear to be strung out, nor did he look dead on his feet as he had the last time they had met. "I haven't been here that long," Wayne insisted cordially, "and I got to meet some of the very charming people you work with." 

"So I hear. From the sound of things, you made quite the impression on people. Especially on Captain Sawyer; I don't think she's going to let me be until I give her a full report on why you were here today." Gordon found himself grinning along with the other man as he tried to subtly determine Wayne's reason for being there. 

Shrugging innocently, Wayne said simply, "I found myself with some free time and hoped you might have some as well. I didn't mean to drag you away from whatever you were doing." 

"No, no, by all means, drag away. I was speaking with one of our financial advisors, and I think he was about to find his second wind when Maggie popped by to tell me you were here." 

"I am a man of many talents; among them is fabulous timing. For entrances, anyway; I'm told my exits leave some room for improvement." He was pleased when Gordon laughed in response. "Since you say you were in need of a well-timed rescue operation, would you be interested in grabbing something to eat? I am absolutely starving." 

"Sure. There's a diner up the block. It's not the best looking place, and even a picture of the food is certain to harden your arteries – but it's delicious." And it was cheap, but Gordon refrained from adding that among its qualities. If Wayne really did want to associate with him for reasons that were all aboveboard, he was going to need to learn quickly that the places corporate CEOs did lunch were not the sorts of places that cops wolfed down their food between shifts. The fact that Wayne didn't bluster about, insisting to pay for taking them somewhere disgustingly posh made Gordon feel better about their continued friendship, if it could be called that. 

It only took a few minutes for Gordon to collect his coat and inform his secretary that he would be going out for lunch before the pair was making their way through the parking lot towards Gordon's car. Even though the lot had been scraped earlier that morning, Wayne made a point of tromping through the snow and kicking little piles of the white powder into the air to be carried away by the wind. 

"You seem to be in a particularly cheerful mood," Gordon observed. Most of the adults he knew were always in sour moods when it snowed because of driving conditions and having to scrape ice from their windshields, but Wayne seemed to enjoy it in the same way Babs and Jimmy did. "Did your business deal with your friend's company go well?" 

"That? Oh, yeah, it was fine. It didn't take too much work to get the board to see my point of view on the matter. The transfer went smoothly, and I made it clear to Roman that after he'd taken a break, he could buy back my shares of Janus. A temporary administration was instated to get things on track, and a permanent leadership should be established by the end of the first quarter." 

Gordon fished his keys from his pocket so that he could unlock the doors. As he did so, he took a moment to evaluate the other man once more. Wayne seemed to radiate a sense of carefree ease, and he couldn't understand how the man did it. "I don't know anything about business, but it seems like you're moving awfully fast. Aren't there usually long lag times and rolls of red tape to work through before you can transfer ownership, take a company public, and rearrange the administrative levels?" 

"Maybe, but I don't like wasting time once I start a project. I'm very hands-on and proactive about getting things done – or at least about assigning others to get things done." 

"You're a real mystery, Wayne." Sliding into the car, Gordon started the engine and let it sit a moment to warm up. Turning a bit, he looked over at the other man who was busy buckling his seatbelt. "Your reputation has you pegged as more of a _'c'est la vie'_ personality, and yet you've built up this little empire of trusts and foundations." 

From the expression on Wayne's face, there was no mistaking the fact that he knew Gordon had been checking up on him. And he didn't seem to mind the invasion of privacy. "I can't help any misrepresentation I've had by the media any more than you can help that your maintenance staff hasn't gotten around to repairing the MCU's floodlight. 'Faulty equipment' I believe was the line quoted on the news." 

Gordon gave a soft snort before putting the sedan in reverse and backing up. "Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?" 

Delighted by their unspoken game of cat and mouse, Wayne replied, "You may _ask_ anything you want." 

"What's with this act you put on?" It hadn't been the question he'd meant to ask, but it was the one he wanted to know the answer to most, and it just sort of blurted out before he could think better of it. 

"Isn't all the world a stage? I'm sure that's what Mrs Moore said in ninth grade Lit." When his joke fell short, Wayne tried again, asking, "What sort of an act do you think it is I'm playing at?" 

"I haven't figured that out yet. Give me a little time, and I will." 

The implication that Gordon was interested in staying around to find out more about him made Wayne even more determined. Just because Batman consumed such a large part of his time and energy didn't mean that he wasn't allowed to have a life of his own. "I hope you like whatever it is that you're looking for, then." 

"I'll let you know when I find it," Gordon replied lightly. "But I have to admit, there's one thing that's been bugging me for a while now." 

"Just one thing? I haven't been trying hard enough, then." When he got another disapproving look from the commissioner, he added, "I told you before you can ask anything you want." 

"Though I notice you make no promises about actually answering the question." 

"That's because you are both observant and wise." It was probably for the best that he refrained from mentioning that he simply enjoyed listening to the other man speak. 

Bluntly, Gordon asked, "Where were you for the years you went missing before returning to Gotham?" 

"I wasn't missing. I knew exactly where I was." 

"Come on, you know what I mean. It was seven years without even a word to the people you cared about. What were you doing all that time?" 

"I'll make you a deal. If you answer me something first, I'll tell you what I was doing." 

The offer had all the signs of being a trap. Even so, it didn't hurt to hear the question. "All right... I think. What do you want to know?" 

"Something _I've_ been curious about for a long time." Wayne sat up a little straighter in his seat as he stared straight at Gordon. "What is it that makes you trust a masked vigilante more than your own officers?" 

"What makes you think that's the case?" 

"Hundreds of police officers are fired during your first six months in office, but the whacko in a bat costume gets a mayoral pardon. I sort of deduced." 

"I'm not at liberty to discuss the reasons behind recent layoffs in the department. As far as Batman is concerned, vigilantism isn't tolerated. However, at this time, he's been deemed to be a... a necessary evil, if you will." 

"Then I suppose the answer to your question is that I climbed a mountain to seek enlightenment from a hermit. I ended up smoking some really cool plant life until I 'found' myself and decided that it was time to come home." 

His tone was incredibly skeptical as he asked, "You were lost on a mountain for seven years getting high?" 

"I went a few other places: Europe, Japan, China. But I'd say at least the last half of it was spent there. And believe me, if I never see another psychotropic drug again, I will be a very happy man." 

Gordon was amused if not entirely convinced by his story, although it would explain why the man's ex- had been certain that Wayne was against drugs being at any of his parties. Shaking his head, he said pointedly, "And so much about you is explained..." 

*****

Before they had even pulled into the parking lot of Angelo's Diner, Wayne could tell what Gordon had meant by saying it wasn't much to look at. When it had first been built, the entire neighborhood had been filled with impressive architectural structures; now, only half the letters of the restaurant's sign remained attached to the building, and it looked as if its last coat of paint had been applied in the seventies. The interior wasn't any better. Red checkered plastic table cloths were tacked to each table in the crowded dining area, and something unidentifiable and sticky was covering every surface. 

Gordon was more than a little impressed that Wayne didn't so much as flinch when he led them to the cleanest table available, which still had crusty ketchup stains on the booth. Instead, Wayne reached over to grab a menu and began browsing. "What's good here?" 

"Everything. The service leaves much to be desired, and the place looks like crap, but I don't think I've ever eaten anything here that didn't taste fabulous. And they're quick to get your order out." 

"You look really amazing for a man who eats this sort of food regularly." If Wayne had looked up from his menu, he would have seen Gordon flush slightly at the compliment before fidgeting with his glasses to cover the reaction. "You must work out a lot, yeah?" 

"Not really, no. I used to get a lot more exercise. It's amazing how riding a desk keeps me so much busier than when I was walking a beat." After a few moments of flipping through his own menu, Gordon's face lit up, and he leaned across the table to point at one item. "I recommend the turkey melt. Any of the melts, actually, but the turkey eliminates some of the guilt from the thick-cut bacon." 

"It's hard to tell if you're trying to work yourself to death, or if you're waiting for the bacon to do it for you. But I think you may be right. Split an order of cheese fries?" 

"If you think your cholesterol level can take it." Gordon raised a hand to flag down one of the passing waitresses. "Though, by the look of you, I'd say you could stand to have a few extra calories." 

"I have one of those weird metabolisms where you can eat all the time." As a waitress with an uncomfortably tight-looking bun in her bottle-dyed orange hair came up to their table, Wayne shifted in his seat to flash a flirtatious, crooked grin at her. "What does the chef recommend for this afternoon?" 

"The chef?" Her tone was both skeptical and completely unimpressed with Wayne. She looked to Gordon as if to say that his friend was completely nuts. "Day's 'special' is the honey mustard chicken wrap. If you have the coupon, you can buy two and get a third one half-price. The soup of the day is cream of potato or vegetable. Do you know what you want, or do you need a minute?" 

"I think that I will be having whatever he's having..." 

Wayne's expression made Gordon smile. The sheepish contrition was very similar to the face Jimmy would make when he was caught in the act and wanted to avoid punishment. It was endearing to watch him sit there with his head lowered, fiddling with the sugar shaker. "We'll have the turkey melt on sourdough, hold the sauce. Caesar salads as the sides. And an order of the loaded cheese fries, please." 

"And to drink?" 

"I'll have a coffee. You?" 

"Coffee's fine, thank you." 

The waitress hesitated another moment, staring at them both as if they were the oddest things she'd ever seen before stating, "I'll put your order in and be back in a minute with your coffee." 

Once she was out of earshot, Wayne slumped in his seat. "I don't think she likes us very much." 

" _I_ think she doesn't like _you_." Gordon rested his chin on his hand, leaning against table top to stare at him smugly. "You were a trouble-maker as a kid, weren't you?" 

"What makes you say that?" 

"You have perfected the 'who me?' face that my children so often make when they know they're in trouble." 

Wayne laughed, though he found he couldn't lift his gaze to meet Gordon's. Instead, he just nodded and said, "I was a lousy child; honestly, I don't know how Alfred put up with me. You knew Rachel Dawes fairly well, didn't you? She and I were best friends as kids. Inseparable. We got into _so_ much trouble when we ran around together. We never played 'cops and robbers'; it was always 'robbers and more robbers' as we tried to figure out how best to ambush the kitchen and get whatever sweets we could." 

"How did she ever manage to become the assistant DA with a friend like you?" Gordon asked teasingly. He had known that Rachel's family had worked for the Waynes at one point, but he hadn't been aware of how close the two children had been. Wayne hadn't been at her funeral, either, so it was surprising how pained his eyes were as he finally looked up with a smile. 

"Rachel was always the better person. Me, I just got into fights, wandered aimlessly from class to class, and eventually dropped out to go sight-seeing." 

Sensing that Rachel was not a topic for light-hearted luncheon conversation, Gordon tried to steering them back to something a little less painful. "I can definitely see you as the sort to scavenge cookies illicitly from the top shelf of the cupboard, but you don't seem the type to cause trouble in school." 

"My career as a school-yard troublemaker didn't last long. It was decided that I should have a more productive outlet for all my energy, so I was enrolled in peewee karate. After that, I guess I was satisfied with taking my frustration out on the mat." 

Gordon couldn't help laughing. He didn't mean to, and he had seen plenty of traumatized kids either strike out at random or withdraw completely, but the mental image of Bruce Wayne in white karate pajamas amused him greatly. "You were a peewee martial artist?" 

Fortunately, Wayne didn't seem to take offense, and he smiled along with the commissioner. "I don't know if you could really call anyone in that class 'martial artists'. It was a mix of K through sixth graders. Most of them only stayed a few years because their parents wanted them to take the class or because they thought it was cool to learn how to beat people up, but I loved it. I was in two different dojos until either my sophomore or junior year of high school, something like that." 

Both men paused in their conversation as their waitress returned with two mugs of thick sludge that vaguely resembled coffee. "Do either of you need cream with that?" 

"No, thank you." 

Wayne stared into his cup for a moment before daring a sip. "It's perfect, thank you, ma'am." 

She snorted and turned to leave once more. 

"I think if you added cream and sugar, the spoon would stick upright in it," Wayne stated, giving the liquid a testing swirl in the mug. 

"It's entirely possible. This stuff will keep you going for hours as is; I hesitate to wonder what would happen if you added sugar." He took a long sip from his own mug. The taste was terrible, but he could feel the caffeine kicking in instantly, even if it was only a psychological response. "So if you liked the karate class so much, why did you stop in the middle of high school?" 

He had hit upon another sensitive subject. Wayne paused to sip at his coffee and ponder how best to answer. "The sensei and I disagreed on my technique and what was important to gain from the class." 

"Which was?" 

Grimacing, Wayne backtracked a little to be able to explain better. "After I got my junior black belt here in Gotham, I started taking the train to the Princeton Academy of Martial Arts." 

"Isn't that a bit far for a teenager to be going?" 

"Maybe, but I didn't like being in my parents' house then, and it got me away for a few hours. And it's the best dojo in the area. It wasn't too hard to sell the idea to Alfred, though it was a little irritating trying to convince him that I didn't need to be chauffeured to and from class. Anyway, I started over there and worked my way up again with an adult class. When I earned my _shodan_ , I decided to switch sports." 

"What's a _shodan_?" 

"It's the first level of black belt. There are several levels of black, but I only stayed through the first because the sensei and I didn't get along very well. I was good at form and the kata, but I was crap at meditation and control. I spent the last year or two of high school doing kickboxing instead." 

Stranger things had happened, but there was no way Gordon could picture the carefree businessman having enough discipline to get anywhere in martial arts. "So basically, what you're saying is that you know a hundred and one ways to kill a man with your hands now?" 

"Oh, yeah. My senior year, I could have totally taken you out." Wayne flashed the commissioner a cheeky grin. He left it unsaid that it was something that he was still capable of doing, or that it was something that he was interested in doing in a different context. 

"I'm very surprised. You don't seem anything like Mr Miyagi." 

"You saying that I don't have any restraint?" he asked in a teasing tone of accusation. 

"Pretty much." 

"Yamamoto-sensei would agree with you. I'm more like Daniel Larusso than Miyagi Kesuke: no patience for painting the fence. I tried going back to it a few years ago to see if being older would help any. I told you before that I was in Japan for a little while; it was probably about eighteen months that I was in Kyoto trying to 'find my center' or some crap like that. I only ended up pissing the hell out of that sensei, too. You never saw floors that sparkled the way that dojo did for the number of times he made me clean it." 

"Was that before or after you climbed the mountain in China and smoked all the wacky weed?" 

Wayne knew that Gordon was teasing him, and he couldn't help smiling in response. "It was before. And that was in the Kingdom of Bhutan, not China." 

"Bhutan. Why not? If you're going to climb a mountain, nothing but the Himalayas will do, I guess." 

"Having been there, I can honestly say I wasn't too taken with the Himalayas. Very cold. But I'm impressed! Most people don't know what Bhutan is, let alone which mountain range is there." 

"Babs is in geography this year." 

"You would love Japan. It's possibly the cleanest place I've ever been. And guns are illegal. It's so peaceful that the police officers ride around on bicycles." 

"That sounds really nice," he said, even though he was certain he could never live that sort of life. 

"It is. If you ever get a week or two of vacation, let me know. I'll fire up the Gulfstream, and we can take a whirlwind tour." 

"If I ever find three days off back-to-back, I'll be ecstatic. Even if I did, I don't know if I could handle that kind of relaxation. Too much quiet makes me restless – even fishing." 

"I've never been fishing." 

"Never? I must have been six when my dad took me out the first time." 

"When I was six, my dad took me to board meetings." 

"Did you have fun?" 

"It was great." 

"Then that's all the matters. The time and the enjoyment are what counts, not necessarily what you were doing." 

"Most people think it's weird that he would have done that." A soft smile lit Wayne's face as he looked down at his hands. "Anyway! Enough about me. I'm sure you're probably tired of listening to me ramble on about stupid things like that." 

"I came out here with you _because_ I wanted hear you rambling on." 

The younger man looked up at him in confusion. "You did?" 

"I have a good time when you're around. Is that so surprising?" 

"Actually...yes. I thought you were just being polite." 

"Being polite is offering you coffee at the office before showing you the door. You're actually very good company, and I owe you many thanks for rescuing me from my desk." 

"Maybe if the criminal element is cooperative, you'll have time to do this again next week?" 

"I think that could be arranged."


	14. Chapter 14

~January 26th~

"Lucius, I had a message saying you wanted to see me?" 

The CEO looked up from the file he'd been reviewing to examine his friend's demeanor for a moment. Of late, Wayne could only be described as 'cheerful', which for anyone else might not have been unusual, but when not surrounded by onlookers, Bruce Wayne tended to be more the 'sullen' type than anything else. Over the last month, something had changed that, though he hadn't yet been able to determine what. 

"Yes, I do. I have a new toy for you to try out." Fox couldn't help smiling at the way Wayne's face lit up. It was one of the many things he liked about working for the young man – he appreciated the inventions Fox and his team came up with on a much deeper level than simply their monetary value. Unlike anyone else he'd ever worked for, Wayne made a point of going through the archives product by product, trying to determine how they worked and how they could be improved upon. Usually, Wayne's suggestions for improvement were aimed at aiding his peculiar nighttime schedule. 

But he wasn't going to allow himself to be derailed from his concerns by his employer's childlike enthusiasm. "However, there was another matter I had wanted to ask you about first." 

Fox's posture had all the earmarks of a man ready to deliver a lecture. Having spent enough time with Alfred over the years, Wayne could easily spot a disapproving scolding in the works. He slipped his hands into his pockets as he shuffled forward to seat himself across from the other man. "All right. What can I do for you?" 

"Nothing like that. I've just been a little... concerned. You seem to have developed a rather unexpected relationship with our new police commissioner." 

"With Gordon?" Wayne's eyes widened in surprise. Gordon was as far from a disreputable character as a person could get, and he was the sort that anyone would be pleased to have as a friend. "Why would you be concerned about that?" 

"Besides the fact that he's in charge of the police department and all its investigative branches?" Opening the top drawer of his desk, Fox pulled out a magazine and handed it to Wayne. 

"'Sasquatch Spotted in Upstate Park'," he read off the cover. "Interesting." 

"Don't be obtuse with me, please. You know that's not what I meant." 

Wayne sighed as he held the magazine up again. He didn't want to read the front-page article that Fox was referring to. A grainy but clearly identifiable photo was in the middle of the page, showing Gordon and himself at Angelo's Diner. Like most of the trashy magazines found at checkout counters, the article itself said a great deal of nothing, simply drawing unfounded speculations as to the cause of their unlikely association. 

"It's not a very flattering photo." 

"Mr Wayne." 

"I know, I know. What do you want me to say?" Wayne rubbed at his face with both hands before leaning back in the chair with another heavy sigh. "I like him, Lucius. I like working with him; I like talking to him. It's not as if Batman can go out after work for a drink with the guys, and I want to be friends with him. I want more than forty-five seconds on a rooftop coordinating arrests, and this is the only way I know how. Is that so wrong?" 

"No, sir. It's very understandable, and I'm certainly not about to try to stop you. But as I'm involved in this nighttime project of yours, too, I just want to make sure you've thought through some of the finer details of what you're doing." 

"Such as?" 

"Such as that article is only the first I've seen, but the media loves to follow you. If they smell an interesting story, they're going to dig more. Also, while I can appreciate that you want to be friends with the commissioner, is it really fair to him that you'll be lying to him about most aspects of your life?" 

It rankled to hear all of the concerns he already knew being laid out in front of him so bluntly. "It may not be a perfect arrangement, but what else can I do? And I haven't actually had to lie to him at all. I may have omitted a fact or two, but everyone lies. Even if it's just to say 'yes, dear, I think that dress looks nice on you'. Gordon and I had lunch today, and we spent the entire hour talking about last week's Rangers game and how we think they're going to do tomorrow against the Hurricanes." 

"Has this been going on since he came here last month?" 

It wasn't difficult to recognize the paternal, inquisitive tone lacing Fox's words, and Wayne was touched that the older man felt so protective of him. Even so, it was also very annoying. "Only a few weeks. I think we're pretty much trying to eat our way across Gotham one greasy-spoon at a time. And don't look at me like that. I need more people in my life than you, Alfred, and the board of Wayne Enterprises. I just want something _normal_ for a change." 

"You're a multi-billionaire and the head of a half-dozen different companies. You are, by definition, _not_ normal." His young friend seemed so disheartened by his disapproval that Fox quickly moved to change the subject. "Just be careful about how far you take things, Mr Wayne, and I'm sure it'll be fine. Now, I did say that I had something else for you, if you have a bit of time?" 

"My whole day's open. I believe you specifically said 'new toy'?" 

Fox opened his desk drawer again and withdrew what looked like a car key, which he dangled in front of Wayne. "It's a little early, but happy birthday, Mr Wayne. I went through the requests you submitted for the new Tumbler design, and there were some very interesting additions that you wanted. I have to say that my personal favorite was the hydroplaning hovercraft technology." 

"I know how much you love a good challenge," Wayne stated with a sheepish chuckle. When Fox didn't withdraw the offer, he reached out to take the keychain. 

"A challenge, yes, but some of the things you had down makes me think you've either been watching too many James Bond movies or too many reruns of Knight Rider." 

"What if I increase the budget to the R&D department?" Standing, he turned his head to look pointedly at the elevator that would take them down to the archives room so that he could test out the new vehicle. "So, did you give the Tumbler the flamethrower and racing stripes that I asked for?" 

Fox smiled at him patiently and hit the button under the lip of his desk to open the private-access elevator. "It has everything that you need, Mr Wayne. And even a few things that you don't." 

"Like what?" 

"An iPod port." 

Wayne's smile widened even further. "You know what else I need? A stealth jet. It would be a lot easier to do street surveillance without driving around on rooftops." 

"Attracting the attention of every government agent from here to Houston because of an unidentified aircraft flying over a major east coast city is not a terribly good idea." 

"That's what the 'stealth' part of a 'stealth jet' means, Lucius!" 

"We'll see, sir."


	15. Chapter 15

~February 13~

Gordon only had to wait a moment after ringing the doorbell before he was let in. "Gloria, you look lovely tonight," he said, taking her hand and leaning in to kiss her cheek. "I take it that all this isn't for our benefit?" 

She offered him a wide smile and stated definitively, "Not a chance. Janice, Cathy, and I are going for a girls' night out while you men smoke the night away playing your silly card game." 

"You could always stay and play with us, you know." 

"I think not. Somewhere out in the city of Gotham, there is a new bathing suit with my name on it, and I shall not return until it has been found and purchased." 

"Then the best of luck to you in that." 

"Right, then, well, I'm off. Gerry's in the back setting up the table, so make yourself at home. There's a roast in the crock-pot, which should be done in about an hour, and the snacks are in the usual places. Beers are in the fridge. If there's anything you need, help yourself." 

"You're an angel. Have a good time." 

"I intend to." Gloria turned her head so that he could kiss her cheek once more before slipping past him to go outside. "Oh, and Jim, please don't clean my husband out again. I already have plans for how to spend his cash without you taking it all from him." 

Gordon refrained from making any promises as they exchanged goodbyes. A brief detour took him into the kitchen for a beer before heading back to join Stephens. "Hey, Gerry." 

"Hey, yourself. The wife gone yet?" 

"Just now. Where's everybody else?" 

"They won't be here for a while yet. I told them game wasn't until eight." 

"Then why tell me to come over at seven?" He seated himself and began sorting the different colored chips into piles. 

"'Cause that way you can spill your guts about Mr Moneybags. Inquiring minds want to know if he really is 'too perfect to be straight' or if he's very ineptly laundering money one meal at a time." 

Gordon rolled his eyes and threw one of the chips at him. "Wayne isn't gay. At least, I don't think so. It's more like flirting is some sort of default setting with him. He does it with _everybody_." 

"Maybe." Stephens didn't sound entirely convinced. "Even if that's not it, it's been about a month now, and he's been to the office two or three times already, and you've slipped out a couple times besides that. You must'a found out somethin'. I assume it's nothin' illegal, 'cause you're still hangin' out with him. 'Cause you would'a told me by now if that weren't the case. Right?" 

It was difficult not to be short with his friend at having been so clearly set up. In Stephens' defense, it was now part of his job to keep the commissioner out of harm's way, but that didn't make his nosiness any less irritating. "I haven't decided what I think about him yet," he replied honestly. "Wayne's a lot different in private than his public persona would let on. For one thing, he's not nearly as dim as he leads people to believe. I just don't know if he acts that way because he thinks it's expected of him for some reason or if there's something else going on there that I can't figure." 

The detective sat down at the felt-covered card table he'd set up and started shuffling a deck of cards idly as he thought over what he'd been told. "If he'd created this façade to cover up for whatever, I would think the police commissioner would be the last person he'd want to let know about it. Unless he was tryin' to get you in on somethin'." 

"Hey, what happened to my being a nice guy, and that he should be so lucky to have me as a friend?" 

"Naw. Drugs are way more likely. Maggie was tellin' me all about how she saw him that one time at the station, and he looked high as a kite." 

Not certain what the current laws in Asia were regarding the recreational use of the native plant life, Gordon decided that it would be best for Wayne's image to simply gloss over what he had said about his time on the mountaintop. "From what I've seen and heard, Wayne seems to be pretty adamantly against drug use in general. He's just naturally like that." 

"So you think it's more likely that he feels he's supposed to play this role of the dim-bulb playboy, and he's reaching out to you as what? A cry for help? That's pretty weak, Jim." 

"I never claimed to understand it, or him. Our conversations have all been pretty mundane; he doesn't like to talk about work much. We mostly go out for lunch – he really seems to love crappy restaurants. Burger joints, tacos, places you'd never imagine someone like him going. Oh, you'll love this: he's really into cheesy arcade games. I got my ass kicked at _Zombie Attack_." 

"That's seriously messed up. It must be nice to be rich. Then you're just 'eccentric' instead of 'a great, big bag of crazy'." 

"There are some perks to this situation, though." 

"Besides free lunches?" 

"Not only does he score high on first person shooter games, he also scores great seats." 

That had Stephens' attention. He set the cards aside in favor of looking up at Gordon more intently. "Tickets where?" 

"VIP ringsides seats to the Rangers-Canes game." 

"He took you to the Rangers game?!" 

"The night he showed up at the office and said I was working too hard? That's where he dragged me off to. We were right there, by the ice. It was a pretty tense when Carolina scored at the end of the first, but when Dubinsky scored again, we were set. After the game, we hung out for a while at that Indian place in Jackson Heights." 

"And what does Barbara think of you spending all this time with Wayne?" 

The subject of his wife wasn't one that Gordon wanted to discuss, but in the end, he decided that since Gloria and Barbara were friends, he might as well come clean before Stephens heard about it secondhand from her. "Barbara and I ... aren't exactly talking right now." 

That earned him the detective's full attention. Stephens set aside the playing cards and waited patiently for Gordon to continue. 

Not willing to go into the specifics of it, even with his friend, Gordon said simply, "For a while, Barbara thought that she was pregnant. She really hoped that I would step down from being commissioner to be able to spend more time with her and the baby." 

"Did something happen? Why didn't you say anything sooner?" 

"It's a long story that I don't feel like telling. The short of it is that the whole thing ended up being a false alarm. She cried a lot, and after she stopped crying, she began packing all her things into hundreds of little boxes. I have until she's done packing all those boxes to decide if I'm going with her or staying here in Gotham." Again, Gordon found himself wishing he had a pack of cigarettes, or something more steadying than just a beer. 

"You sure you don't wanna talk about?" 

"Quite sure." 

"Fair enough!" Because of their long-standing friendship, Stephens had felt compelled to ask, but even so, it was nice to be told to leave it alone. "And listen: any time you get tired of this gig with the rich guy takin' you cool places, you let me know. I'm all over it." 

"If you're so interested, he sent an invitation to the house for what promises to be a fabulous birthday fiasco, assuming that past patterns hold true, that is. It's for Commissioner Gordon plus one, but Barbara said that she had absolutely no intention of going. Want to be my 'plus one'?" 

"Nothing could keep me away. When is it?" 

"Next Thursday, the nineteenth." 

Stephens looked positively stricken. "Except for that. That's the weekend that Gloria and I are going to be gone. I'm cuttin' out Wednesday after work, remember? We've been planning this little romantic trip away from Gotham to warmer and sunnier places." 

"Ah, that would be why she's currently out on a quest for new swimwear?" 

"That would be why. Not even Bruce Wayne is going to keep me from my wife in a slinky bathing suit. I saw the catalogue picture she was lookin' at." 

"Oh well, I suppose I can go by myself and sip expensive champagne all night without you." 

"You're a cruel man, Jim. But I happen to know someone who might be interested in going with you..."


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My beta made a comment at one point about Babs being very well spoken here, so I wanted to point out that I'm drawing her character not from the thirty-second clip that we get in the Nolan-verse films but from her work as Batgirl, a doctorate holder, a Congresswoman, and the Oracle in various incarnations throughout DC universes.

~February 19~

It was the night of Master Wayne's thirtieth birthday, and the manor house was packed. Friends of the family, business associates, and those in positions of power all circulated the floor, eating and drinking nothing but the finest that Gotham had to offer. Despite the crowd, Alfred couldn't say that anyone there was truly a friend to his young charge, with the possible exceptions of himself and Lucius Fox. When the commissioner had finally RSPVed in the affirmative, it had pleased him considerably. Master Bruce deserved to have friends beyond an old butler and a man old enough to be his grandfather, and while Commissioner Gordon may have been an odd choice of companion, he could see how the two might be able to relate to each other on a level that others couldn't. 

Alfred couldn't keep a smile from his face as he came up behind the commissioner and his guest for the evening. As excited as she looked to be there, Commissioner Gordon appeared to be equally out of sorts amid all the opulence. "Can I interest you in some champagne, sir?" 

Gordon offered him a grateful smile before politely refusing. "Thank you, but no. We can't stay out too late, and I'll be driving home."

Without missing a beat, as if he had anticipated this response, Alfred turned the tray so that a slightly lighter-colored drink was facing the commissioner. "Then perhaps I can interest you and your lovely companion in some sparkling grape juice?"

Impressed with the man's ability to anticipate situations, Gordon gave him a smile and took the two glasses from the tray. "Thank you."

Babs was grinning from ear to ear as she looked up at her dad. "You know, I'm not driving home. Maybe I could have one?"

"Yeah, in another nine years. But I don't believe the gentleman wants to wait that long on you." He handed her one of the champagne flutes with a warning look that said she had better not try to sneak one later. 

"If you find that's not to your liking, just let me know. There are a number of other things I can bring up from the kitchen. Perhaps some coffee?"

"You don't need to go to any trouble on our account, but thank you." Gordon craned his neck momentarily to try to peer over the crowd of people. "Is Bruce here? We should probably say hello to our host."

"Ah. He has not yet arrived. My understanding was that Master Bruce had planned to spend the morning in Malibu, then fly back in tonight with his lady-friend for the party. I'm sure that his plane has simply been delayed and that he'll be here shortly." There was only the slightest hesitance in Alfred's voice while relaying the cover story for explaining why Wayne was running about on rooftops with criminals instead of circulating at his own birthday celebration. 

Babs reached out to give her father's sleeve a tug. "Dad, is it all right if I go look around a little?"

"Maybe you shouldn't wander through someone else's home." He slipped his arm around her shoulders and tugged her closer. "But if you're too cool to hang out with Dad, then it's all right with me if you want to look around in here."

"Any room where guests are not permitted is shut and locked." Alfred offered her a warm, fatherly smile. "If the doorway is open, feel free to go anywhere you like. The staff will help direct you if you become turned about."

"I'll come back in half an hour so you don't get all freaked out and worried about me." She stretched up on her toes to lay a quick kiss on his cheek. "Thanks, Dad!"

*****

A quick look about the main hall where guests were congregating left Babs with little doubt that she needed to be moving in the direction of a giant fountain bubbling over with melted chocolate instead of water. Piles of assorted fruits lined the table on either side of the magnificent site, confirming for her the fact that her father was _never_ allowed to stop being friends with Bruce Wayne. Coming to stop in front of a bowl of strawberries put her in reach of the chocolate fountain as well as in earshot of group of well-dressed businessmen.

"We heard about your car, Robert," one was saying as she helped herself to a small plate of fruit. "It's just terrible! You'd only had that car a few months, hadn't you?"

The man, Robert, frowned into his Scotch and took a sip before nodding in response. "Yes, it was practically new, but I'd become rather attached to it already. For an extra layer of irony, I'd just had the Aston Martin washed and waxed the day before it happened."

His companions chuckled. "Naturally," said the older man, shaking his head. "Now, what about—"

But Robert interrupted, oblivious to his senior's attempt at redirecting the conversation away from what was clearly still a sore point. "I saw it happen, you know. On the news. I usually have CNN running on the television in my office, and they played a video they'd received from some teenager who happened to be in the parking garage at the time and had a camera phone. The quality wasn't good, but you could clearly see that pointy-eared idiot come sailing in out of nowhere on that bike of his. He went over the concrete barrier and came down right on top of my car; then he zoomed off again without so much as a pause." His hand clenched reflexively on the now-empty glass. "Caved the roof right in, not to mention the damage to the front of the car and the engine. Totaled. And do you know what my insurance agent said?"

He paused, clearly waiting for someone to ask. One of the men did look curious, but the other had obviously heard the story more than once and was eager for this rendition to end.

"He said that they won't pay me a dime! Called it an ‘Act of God'. Apparently destruction of property by crazed vigilantes is just a natural occurrence that anyone living in Gotham should know to expect!" His voice was getting louder. "So here I am, just paid for this car, and now it's a complete wreck, and I have to pay entirely out of my own pocket to replace it! All because some fuck—"

"Excuse me, young lady," the oldest of the three men stopped their conversation to address Babs, who had wandered even closer to where they were standing. He had been to several of Wayne's gatherings, and none of them had ever included children before. "Are you ... lost?"

"No. And I'm sorry for eavesdropping; I was just curious about your conversation." She smiled as politely as she could at the three who were clearly skeptical of her presence there. "I came with my father."

The older man hushed his companions again when they began to protest. "And who is your father, my dear?"

"Jim Gordon." She was positively beaming as she said his name, proud of her father's work and reputation. "I'm Babs—uh, Barbara Gordon."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Barbara. I'm Jonathan Fredericks, and this is Mr Porter and Mr Adams. Do you accompany your father out often?"

"My brother and I used to visit him at his office when he was a police officer, but not recently, no sir. I'm very happy to have this opportunity to be able to interact with some of Gotham's top businessmen. You work at Wayne Enterprises, don't you, Mr Fredericks?"

"I do. How did you know that?"

"I've read some of the statements you've made in the business section of the _Gotham Times_. I think your company's plans for rapid expansion in times of economic uncertainty are very bold." Her response got a laugh from all three men who now turned their full attention to her. "Columnists at the _Times_ seem to think that the current trends show Wayne Enterprises' popularity domestically as well as overseas is likely to keep things afloat despite what might be seen as excessive spending." 

Fredericks had trouble keeping a smile from his face at her words. "How old are you, miss, if you don't mind my asking?"

"Almost thirteen."

"Almost thirteen... And you're already interested in the business sector?"

"Not so much." Babs gave a small shrug, not wanting to say anything to belittle his profession. "But I am interested in what's going on in the world around me. That's why I was curious about your earlier conversation."

"Batman does get a lot of media coverage these days, doesn't he?" Robert crossed his arms and looked down on her, clearly not thinking much of Batman or her father. "It's just such a pity that the police department isn't doing more to try and stop this sociopath before he does anymore damage to the city."

The other two men scowled at him for the dig, though Babs didn't seem to mind. "Dad has said that some of the officers have expressed concern about the theory of criminal escalation where Batman is concerned, though I would hardly call him a sociopath."

"He dresses up in a bat costume like it was Halloween and flies around on rooftops. What would you call it?"

"Well, since he isn't impulsive, reckless, or deceitful, and since he clearly has an understanding of the difference between right and wrong, I wouldn't call him a sociopath or a psychopath. He knows what he's doing, even if he is a little ... unconventional."

"Are you sure you're twelve?"

"I read a lot."

"Regardless of whatever fancy name you want to put on it, he's a danger to society. He's got a fucking _tank_ —"

" _Robert_." Fredericks nodded his head at the young girl who looked more amused than scandalized by the comment. 

"What? He _does_ have this really big tank with fu—" He caught himself and hesitated before continuing. "With _bombs_ and he goes around beating the crap out of people. How long can he go on before he turns that aggression on innocent bystanders? He needs to be stopped, and the police department shouldn't be condoning his actions just because they want someone to do their dirty work for them."

"You know, if you feel so strongly about vigilantism, you could become more politically active and petition the government to close Gitmo. Here in Gotham, Batman is going after known mob family members and other hardcore criminals. The government is hiring mercenaries to black-bag people who were turned in for reward money, most of whom never did anything except have a target sign on their backs that say 'I'm worth American dollars if you sell me as a supposed terrorist'. _That's_ dangerous; _that's_ real crime."

" _That_ is protecting this country from terrorism abroad!"

"You get your information from Fox News, don't you?" When the older two men chuckled at her remark instead of reprimanding her, Babs pushed on. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but basically, what you're saying is that it's okay for the average citizen to beat up the bad guys if they're doing it as mercenaries and if the bad guy's in someone else's country that has natural resources that we want. That's okay? At least Batman has the _chutzpah_ to face the people he 'beats up' one-on-one, usually more like a dozen-to-one. And I don't recall any of the news articles saying anything about the criminals he's brought in having been tortured for information."

From behind them, a new voice said abruptly, "I see too many serious faces over here for a party."

"Ah, Bruce." Fredericks turned to put a hand on his friend's shoulder and draw him into their conversation. "We were just having a little academic debate on the merits of social inadequacies."

Wayne's face contorted into an expression of disgust. "Why would you be doing that?" 

"It turns out that Commission Gordon's daughter, here, is quite the social activist. Have you two had the opportunity to meet?" From the open-mouthed, slightly star-struck expression on Babs face, he guessed not. "Ms Gordon, this is our host for the evening, Mr Bruce Wayne. I'm sure you've heard a great deal about him from your dealings with the _Gotham Times_. Bruce, this is Ms Barbara Gordon, the commissioner's daughter. She was just explaining to us her theory on why the Batman isn't such a detriment to the city as some would have us believe."

"Oh really?" Wayne turned to her expectantly. "I suppose I can understand that, what with your father's position and all."

"Mr Wayne doesn't share your optimistic view on the Batman's value."

"Hey now, don't put words in my mouth, Fredericks. I just don't think that it's right that he should be given special treatment in his actions. No one elected him, no one appointed him, and he shouldn't be allowed to run around without accountability. What were you saying about it— Is it 'Babs' or 'Barbara'?"

"Whichever is fine." Truthfully, he could have called her anything at all, and she would have been fine. Wayne was even more handsome in real life as he smiled down at her than he was on television. "I, uh, I was saying that it wouldn't do any good to focus on the problem of Batman specifically anyway. The problem is with the system, with society. When things are so corrupt and broken that people like Batman need to surface to fix it, then there's a _serious_ need of an overhaul to society as a whole. If improvements aren't made to the system first, then taking care of Batman now is just treating a symptom that will reoccur if the problem isn't eliminated." 

"Interesting..." Wayne continued to stare at her critically for several seconds before turning to his business partner. "Do we have a job we can give her? I like the way she thinks."

As the businessmen laughed, Babs was afraid that she might faint dead away. Bruce Wayne was talking to her, and he thought that she had said something intelligent. This was definitely getting posted online as soon as she got home.

*****


	17. Chapter 17

~March 22~

Just what he always wanted for his birthday: another body killed with the same MO as another four unrelated people.

After Gordon had first implemented his new policy regarding the Batman's assistance in police cases, there had been a moderate level of resistance from the officers. Some of them – especially the newer ones − were only too happy to send in what they were calling their "meatshield" into gunfire in front of them; others were firmly against civilian interference, no matter how well equipped to handle the situation. 

When the fifth victim turned up dead, weeks older than the other four found over the last few days, not one voice of protest rose as the Batman showed up at police headquarters in broad daylight for a meeting with the commissioner. The victims didn't have a discernible pattern between them: men and women, young and old, three were white collar but not the other two, all with unrelated occupations, all different times of death, and all were dumped in different locations. Hours later, Stephens had threatened to forcibly remove him from the office if he didn't go home to get some sleep. 

Birthday cake was still out on the table when Gordon finally arrived home. He quietly made his way up to Jimmy's room, and on finding the bed empty, he peeked into his daughter's room. Both children were curled up together in Babs's bed, and he sat down on the edge of the mattress beside them. "Hey there," he said softly, reaching out to brush Jimmy's hair out of his eyes when the boy blinked sleepily at him. "Sorry I was so late." 

Jimmy sat up quickly and threw his arms around his father's neck. "Did you catch them yet, Daddy?"

"Not yet." Gordon dropped a kiss on his son's head before reaching over to draw Babs into a hug as well. "But I did get permission to outsource the problem to another agent."

"What's 'outsource' mean?" he asked in a small voice, rubbing at his eyes in an attempt to wake up enough to understand better what was going on.

Babs, however, had no trouble keeping up, and she rolled her eyes impatiently. "Batman, stupid."

Gordon tugged lightly on one of her sleeves. "Don't call your brother names." 

"Sorry..."

Jimmy's expression suddenly perked up, and he asked hopefully, "Since you were working late, can we have the cake for breakfast?"

"You'll have to ask your mother since she made it." Having neatly evaded that question with the time-honored "mother" diversion, he gave both kids another hug before saying, "Now, you two should get to sleep."

"Happy birthday, Daddy." They both kissed his cheek, and instead of going back to his own room, Jimmy settled down next to his sister, hugging her close.

Gordon crept into the master bedroom and sat down to watch his wife sleep. He loved her, she loved him, and it was stupid that they had been sleeping apart the last three months. Staying with her would mean leaving Gotham, leaving Batman. He would have his kids, but he wouldn't be able to see Batman again, wouldn't feel the man's hand running through his hair. That had been his first _truly_ comforting touch in a long time.

Instead of reach out to wake her or crawling under the covers beside her, Gordon went back out to the couch to sleep. He stood a long time looking at it before pulling out his cell phone and hitting one of his speed dials. It barely finished the first ring before Wayne picked up.

_"Gordon, hey, my man! What's up? Isn't it a little late for the day-shifters to be up and about?_

"Probably, but when I tried to hit the sack, it struck me... I've downed more than a pot of coffee in last couple of hours." He found himself pacing the short stretch in front of his couch, and Gordon made himself stand still. "'Wired' doesn't even begin to describe how I am right now, but everyone _sensible_ that I know is either sleeping or working the graveyard shift."

_"You know, if it's some action you're looking for, I could fire up the Gulfstream, and we could go someplace where it's a more reasonable hour for being active."_

Even over the phone, Gordon couldn't mistake the flirtatious undertone to Wayne's words. "I've got to be back at the office in a few hours, but maybe some other time."

_"I hear you: something a little less reasonable but a lot closer. Got it."_

"No, I− I shouldn't have bothered you. The Palisades are a long way from here."

_"That's true, assuming that I were at home. I'm not that far from downtown; actually, I'm probably only about fifteen minutes from your place in this traffic."_

"I don't want to be an inconvenience."

Wayne made a scoffing noise across the line. _"You really need to stop thinking that you're a bother; if you were, I wouldn't answer the phone. And I know the perfect thing for us to do. It's maybe forty minutes away, but Jillian's restaurant is open all night, and it's a blast."_

"Jillian's... Is that the chain that has the video arcade?"

 _"It's so much more than an arcade, Gordon."_ He could practically hear Wayne grinning at him over the telephone. _"They have a full sit-down, booth-style restaurant, a well stocked bar, a dance floor, live music all night, and fun for all ages. I'll come pick you up. You're at home, yeah?"_

"Yes, but I don't want to wake anyone. They're all asleep. I'll meet you in front of the station in thirty?"

_"Perfect! That'll even give me time to change."_

"You're sure it's not a problem?"

_"Are you kidding? They offer a free burger to anyone who can beat the high score on Road Warriors 3!"_

*****

An hour later, Gordon was grinning madly as he shot hordes of undead invading an amusement park. "You know, I didn't believe you when you said that this would be therapeutic."

Wayne fired off-screen quickly to reload his own gun before returning fire to cover Gordon's character. "There's nothing like saving the world from zombie invasions to de-stress after a long day at work. Especially since they wouldn't think twice about eating your brains, even if it were your birthday."

"How did you know about that?" He took his eyes off the screen to stare at Wayne in wonderment, only to jump in surprise when a shambling corpse clawed at him, causing the screen to flare red. Cursing, he fired three shots into the zombie and made sure he had his gun up at the ready. "How did you know it was my birthday? I didn't say anything about it."

"My spies are everywhere," Wayne returned cryptically. "Did you do anything fun today?"

"I shot some zombies − Oh, shit!" Wayne's character was suddenly set upon by three undead, and no amount of shooting kept the other man's health bar from dropping. Only a liberal application of quarters allowed him to respawn without becoming one of the targets. "Yup, this is about all I've done of worth today. Everything else has been banging my head repeatedly against a wall for this one case. Even my unofficial consultant hasn't had any luck tracking down leads."

Wayne gave a small shrug, reloaded, and emptied his virtual clip at the screen. "Sometimes we're too close to things. Stepping back, taking a break, and getting a rest can make the big picture clearer."

"So, you're saying that I should consider this on-the-clock work and give myself overtime for it?"

"With that sort of thinking, you'll have no trouble running for senate one day."

Wayne's last shot cleared the level, and the two men were able to stand down as the characters progressed automatically through some plot explanation that neither of them cared about. Able to look away without concern, Gordon turned a revolted expression on his friend. "I do real work for a living, thank you very much."

"I can't fault you at all for that. Politics would make me want to become one of these zombies." He readied his gun as the story portion of the game came to an end. 

"Barbara would probably be happy if I were in Washington instead of here." This time, there was more venom in his wife's name than in the mention of a political career. 

Despite the potential mess that he was stepping in by asking, Wayne bravely forged ahead and asked, "How _are_ things at home?"

"The women in my life are trying to give me a nervous breakdown. Barbara, she..." 

When Gordon didn't say anything further for some time, Wayne attempted to circumvent the matter. "You know you don't have to tell me anything that's too personal. I just asked in case you wanted someone to vent at."

"God, do I ever, but it's all so complicated... Do you remember a few months ago, I mentioned that Barbara was hopeful that she was pregnant?" Even while watching the arcade game screen, he could still see Wayne cringe in his peripheral vision. "Well, things ended up not going the way she wanted."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm only sorry that she's upset about it. It was never really something that I wanted, and she's really mad at me for not seeing things the same way that she does. She's started packing boxes to sort of ram home the point that she's moving with or without me."

"What about Babs? She doesn't seem like the type to give you trouble on purpose."

"No, but because my life doesn't have enough going on already, Babs has started talking about this one boy at school. There's some sort of spring dance, and she's really hoping he'll ask her."

"Isn't she a little young for that?"

"Yes!" Gordon rapidly emptied his clip all into the same flailing monster, shot off-screen to reload, then laid into its permanently dead corpse. "But apparently, what I think doesn't matter. Colin Jackson's his name. He's two years older than her."

Catching his tone very carefully, Bruce pointed out, "Just remember that it's illegal to kill him, even if any judge with children would understand."

"You see? _This_ is part of my problem." Gordon waved his gun at him, indicating that Wayne was part of the equation. "None of my friends have kids! You won't understand until you have a daughter. I remember being a teenage boy. Hell, _you_ still _act_ like a teenage boy. What would you do if she were your daughter?"

Wayne paused for a moment, not at all caring that both of their characters were currently being devoured by ravenous zombie hordes. "If you do end up needing to kill him, I own both a shovel and a very large piece of property."

*****


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There be mature slash content here; ye have been warned.

~April 5~

What should have been a perfectly normal Wednesday evening drive home had been interrupted by a call over the police radio: a 10-10 had been called in, shots fired. He was going to be in trouble for entering the scene without either Stephens or Bullock there to go with him, but the closest officers were a pair of rookies who had been sent out to verify a 9-1-1 hang-up call at the Sunny Days Retirement Community a few blocks over. A pair of overturned semis had congested traffic and blocked the main access roads to the area. Unfortunately, questioning the squatters who had managed to get out of the condemned apartment building led to corroborating reports that several masked men inside had grabbed at least two hostages and were headed in the direction of the roof. 

The last thing Gordon needed was for jumpy patrolmen to make the gunman twitchy as well. Gordon ordered both men to secure the building while he went to the roof. It was neither the smartest nor the safest decision he'd ever made, but hopefully he would live to hear about what an idiot he was later. Before going into the building, though, Gordon turned on the tracking beacon on the phone given to him by Batman. A little extra backup would be appreciated, but there wasn't time to wait. 

On his way in, the commissioner stumbled upon one of the two hostages, very nearly literally. The man's body had been left in the stairwell leading up to the roof. He had been shot in the back of the head and then had been posed on the steps pointing upwards as a macabre sign to continue. As Gordon stepped carefully around the victim, he wondered, _Why can't Gotham have normal criminals who aren't also crazed psychopaths?_ He was tired of serial nutjobs in costumes and makeup and masks. 

Before he could see the open door, Gordon could feel a draft of cold night air blowing in from the roof access door that looked to be so rusty that he was surprised the gunman had been able to get it open. It had probably been in terrible condition long before the building had been condemned. Unfortunately, that meant that there was no way he was going to be able to approach unnoticed. Any hesitancy he might have felt dissipated when a sudden cry for help was silenced mid-scream. 

"It's the police," he stated loudly, doing his best to peer around the edge of the door to see more of the rooftop. When no one immediately began taking potshots at his head, he added, "I'm coming up. We just want to talk." 

"Talk is cheap." There was a gravelly edge to the voice that answered him that perversely reminded Gordon of the Batman. 

"How are we supposed to know what it is you want if we don't talk?" Gordon had negotiated more than his share of hostage situations during his time on the force, mostly because too few others could be bothered not to shoot first and ask questions later. His gut was telling him that this was one of the instances where asking questions wasn't going to do much good, but there was a terrified young woman on the roof somewhere who needed help. "There's no one else here; it's just us. So let's talk. Clearly you want something." 

"You're not interested in what _I_ want." The man's voice was soft, and Gordon had to strain to hear him. "But you will be soon enough, Commissioner; you will be." 

Gordon's heart was pounding in his chest as he took another step out onto the roof. Lines of chimneys and large air conditioning apparatuses prevented him from having a clear view. The perp could have been hiding behind any of them, and so far, he hadn't made any mistakes to give away his position. "We know you have a girl up here with you, and we just want to make sure that she hasn't been injured. Is she all right?" 

" _No!_ He's got a—" The hostage's cry was silenced again, but it sounded as if it had come from his left. 

Turning, Gordon tried to peer into the darkness for any signs of movement. A soft whisper floated indistinctly through the air, and Gordon heard the hostage whimper in response. "You need to let the girl go. You must want something, or you wouldn't be up here with her." 

The man's laughter sent a shiver down Gordon's spine. It wasn't manic or hysterical like the Joker's had been, but it was cold and calculating in an equally terrifying way. "I don't need to do anything. And it's not _her_ that I care about; she's meaningless to me." 

"She shouldn't be." Gordon took a step closer, trying to find a better angle. "She is a human being, just like you. She has friends and family who care about her and want her to come home safely. And she's all that's keeping the other officers from coming up here after you." 

"Then it would be foolish of me to get rid of my human shield, wouldn't it, Commissioner? You must not think very much of my intelligence." For the first time, the man's voice sounded angry rather than smugly superior. Gordon filed that away in case he managed to get them out of this situation. "What I think, Jim – do you mind if I call you 'Jim'? What I think, Jim, is that your officers aren't up here now because you only brought Tweedledee and Tweedledum with you, and they're too busy trying to remember the 'by the book' way to secure the building and make sure none of my gang has any more hostages." 

Gordon swore softly under his breath. This would be a lot more difficult if the gunman had tapped into the police frequency so that he knew exactly what they were doing. And sadly, he was probably right about the officers downstairs. 

"But I'm not a heartless man. I'll give you one offer that ensures she leaves this rooftop alive." 

The superior tone was back, which was oddly comforting. As long as the gunman felt in control, he wasn't likely to start shooting at random. "What's that?" 

"I'm willing to bet that I can get off of this roof without any difficulty if I don't have a hostage holding me back. So you see, I don't particularly care if she dies or not. The question, Jim, is do _you_ care about her? If so, then I'm willing to exchange her for you. You have five seconds to decide, then I spill her brains on the concrete and take my chances. Five... four..." 

The girl was screaming hysterically now, and Gordon had to yell to be heard over her. "All right! All right, dammit, just don't hurt the girl!" 

"Throw the gun away, then, if you're serious, and we'll come out." 

Gordon tossed his gun aside, keeping track of where it skidded to in case he needed to dive for it later. "I've done as you asked, now come out with the girl." 

"You're very lucky," the gunman said, no longer talking to Gordon. He and a trembling brunette stepped into view. The man's face was covered by a black ceramic mask that had been carved into a scowl, and he wore a heavy black cloak that covered any identifiable features. He had a gun pressed under her chin and was stroking her hair with his other hand. "Now, Jim, if you would be so kind as to walk forward and climb up onto that ledge there?" 

"What?" 

"I wouldn't want you getting any thoughts about being a hero once I let her go. Besides, I thought that you had _wanted_ to talk." He dug the muzzle of the gun into the girl's jaw until she was openly crying again. 

"All right!" Jim spread his hands wide in a submissive gesture. "Just don't hurt her." 

"Never let it be said, my dear, that chivalry is dead." The masked gunman waited until Gordon had done as he had been instructed then shoved her towards the door. "This man has agreed to accept your fate for you, so run along my dear. The grownups need to talk privately now." 

Gordon had never really considered himself a man afraid of heights. Even though he spent most of his nights on rooftops looking down over the city, he'd never had such an excellent view of the sidewalk so far below. He looked up suddenly as the gunman approached, jumping gracefully onto the ledge near him. Despite the deeply etched frown on the mask, Gordon was certain the man behind it was smiling at him. "What is it you want?" 

"To make him suffer," was his cryptic response. That said, Gordon found himself looking down the barrel of the man's Berretta. "You're his friend, so he'll suffer greatly from your sudden departure from his life." 

That wasn't good. Having unwittingly stepped into some sort of personal vendetta on the part of a crazed, masked sociopath was not good for his chances of getting out of this alive. If he could keep the man talking, the former hostage might manage to get to his backup in time for them to save his ass. "So all of this was just some sort of elaborate trap?" 

"At first, I curious to see what I could do, what I could get away with. Unfortunately, Gotham's 'finest' aren't very bright, it turns out. I had to start leaving larger breadcrumbs when you weren't able to put two and two together. But this, yes, this was just a way to lure you here. He has to suffer as I have. Your absence will be just the beginning of that." 

Gordon wondered what Batman could have done to make this guy so dead-set on such bloody payback. He wasn't able to ask more about it, as his 'backup' chose that moment to arrive. Unfortunately, the gunman also noticed and stepped closer to Gordon, his gun trained on him. 

"Ah, Batman. I was wondering how long it would take you to show up." 

"Let him go." 

"Oh, I intend to." The gunman never took his eyes off of Batman's position, and his gun never wavered from Gordon. 

"You won't shoot him." Batman moved across the roof towards them, his face drawn up into an expression every bit as furious as the molded mask he wore. 

The other masked man didn't seem to be impressed in the slightest. "And why would that be?" 

"Because then nothing would be standing between you and me. Hurt him, and I'll make sure you wish that I _had_ killed you." 

The threat and menace in Batman's voice made Gordon shiver, and he understood why criminals were terrified of him. He hadn't seen Batman this enraged since the Joker had threatened Rachel in the MCU interrogation room, and the would-be assassin seemed to notice it as well. He moved closer to Gordon until the gun was pressed firmly against his chest. It wasn't a good position to be in, and he had no one to blame but himself for having ended up that way. 

"Isn't it interesting, the predicaments we sometimes find ourselves faced with? You can't come after me, because if you do, I'll surely kill the man you seem to care about. Of course, I can't leave while you're poised so ready to strike at me. What is one to do?" 

It was clearly a rhetorical question, but Gordon couldn't help answering. "You could always surrender. I'd be happy to arrest you." 

"While your generosity is noted, Commissioner, I don't believe that it's an acceptable outcome. No, unfortunately, we're going to have to rely on a more cliché method." Gordon suddenly didn't feel so safe. Something was about to happen. "It will have to be the somewhat trite 'hero's choice', Batman. You _could_ come after me, but I think you could spend your time more wisely." 

Batman was already in motion even as the masked gunman pushed Gordon off the roof. Not willing to be taken down so easily, Gordon made a desperate grab at his assailant and managed to catch hold of the man's sleeve. While his tenuous hold was easily shaken off, it did give Batman the extra moment he needed to make a dive and grab Gordon by the wrist. A litany of curses followed as Gordon slammed into the side of the building. From that angle, he had an even better view of the very solid pavement ten floors below them. 

"Gordon!" Batman was two-thirds over the ledge himself, both feet lifted off the ground. Only one hand actually had a hold on the commissioner; the other was flailing in the air, trying to regain his balance lest they both go over. Gordon's struggles weren't helping any. "Gordon – Jim!" The desperation in his voice drew Gordon's attention up from the ground to Batman's face. 

He managed a weak smile. "This is familiar, isn't it?" 

"I need your other hand." Even as he spoke, Batman slipped further over the ledge. Gordon's eyes widened, and he immediately grabbed hold of him with both hands. Straining, Batman managed to haul him up a little higher. "Grab on to me...I need my hands." 

Gordon didn't really want to let go, but he also didn't want to drag them both down because Batman wasn't able to find purchase. He shifted as best he could to cling desperately to the other man's neck and shoulder, though the lip of the ledge was still inches away. With both hands free, Batman was able to push back enough to find his footing. Once his feet were firmly planted, he reached out and grabbed Gordon by the waist of his trousers and pulled them both up over the ledge. 

After that, everything happened too fast for Gordon to be able to process. He went from dangling over the side of the apartment building to being hauled through the air as Batman yanked him back to safety. The two fell over from the sudden shifting of their combined weight, and Gordon thought for a moment that his heart was going to give out from all the adrenaline. Batman's arms were still around him, holding on to him tightly, and before he could force his sluggish brain into action to tell the other man he was all right, gunfire was ringing out once more. After the first shot, Batman had rolled them over so that he was completely atop the commissioner as three more rounds were fired at them to give their target time to get away. 

Gordon swore again, this time more in relief, as he felt none of the telltale pain associated with a bullet ripping through flesh. "You okay?" 

Batman's eyes were closed, his mouth set in a tight line, but he nodded. A swell of concern rose in Gordon, recognizing a lie when he saw one. Even so, Batman only hesitated another moment to ensure for himself that Gordon really was uninjured before hurrying to his feet in order to follow the shooter. 

"You're hurt." Gordon tried to interpose himself between Batman and the ledge of the roof to keep him from jumping off it in order to catch the perp as he exited the building. "Just because that expensive thing you wear stops bullets doesn't mean you can't be injured." 

"It just means that I have evidence of my own to start analyzing," was all Batman said in response, scowling at Gordon for standing in his way. More than anything, he was angry with himself for having let the murderer get away. 

The commissioner started to protest that he needed medical attention, but he realized as soon as he opened his mouth that it wasn't like Batman could drive up to the nearest hospital for treatment. It begged the question of how he took care of the numerous injuries he had to have sustained in the last couple of years, but this was the only one that mattered to him at the moment. "At least wait and let me have a look at it before you go running around and make it worse." 

Just as Batman looked like he might give in to reason and accept assistance, Gordon's official backup arrived on the scene, guns drawn. Instead of relenting, Batman simply used the distraction to slip away. When they denied finding any additional suspects in the building, Gordon began swearing colorfully then shouting orders to his men to sweep the surrounding area in addition to the building itself. "I want something on this guy. Fibers, bullets, DNA. Find the girl, question her, check her for fibers. Get _something_. Same with the body on the stairs – get everything off it. The suspect has no problem arbitrarily killing cops for kicks; he's to be considered extremely dangerous." 

Once he had said his piece, Gordon left them to do their job. Running after the Batman, he wondered idly if the other man had taken the stairs on purpose so that he could catch up, or if he had been too badly injured after all to want to jump off the roof. "Is it impossible for you to stand still for two minutes?" he asked once he had spotted the familiar cape and cowl a floor below him on the stairs. 

Rather than answering the question, Batman continued his slow descent towards the front exit. "Did he ever say what he wanted?" 

"You." Batman was taken aback by his words and actually stopped to wait for Gordon to catch up. "He said that he was trying to lure me in, that we're connected. He thinks my death would hurt you, and he says he wants you to suffer like he has. So we're looking for someone you've seriously pissed off." 

"That doesn't exactly narrow the field." 

"Let me help you." 

"You have your own investigation here." 

"The detectives can do their jobs without me looking over their shoulders – and before you say it: I know that you can, too. But maybe if we put our heads together, we can come up with something, a new angle to look at this thing." He walked out of the condemned apartment building behind Batman, trying to evaluate the damage, but the damned cape was blocking his view. Like some sort of TV action hero, Batman just kept plodding forward. 

Another officer was outside with the shaken witnesses, trying to corral them and get statements. Batman brushed past all of them to head towards a side alley. Gordon barked orders to secure the building, not let the witnesses go without statements, and to collect any forensic evidence they might be able to get. By the time he'd finished organizing the patrolmen, Batman had already made it into the alley and had remote-called for his vehicle. "You're in no shape to be driving," Gordon stated once he'd run over to join him, trying not to sound as winded as he really was. Batman ignored the warning as he brought the car to a stop inches from running himself over. 

The man's stubbornness was infuriating. He was like a spoiled child with over two hundred pounds of muscle who was insistent upon getting his own way. "You can't do everything alone." 

Batman stopped to look up at him, taking a moment to evaluate the commissioner's expression. "I can't let you see where I'm going," he said finally, as if that explained everything. 

"Then I don't have to see." Gordon held his hands out and open as he stepped closer, as if approaching a skittish animal. "But I do need for you to trust me." 

The vehicle's cover opened and slid back. Batman jumped in, but it didn't immediately close after himself. Several moments ticked by, and the car still hadn't moved. "You going to get in?" 

*****

"We're almost there," Batman stated gruffly, his voice sounding even more labored than usual. "But this last bit is going to be a little bumpy." 

Gesturing to the makeshift blindfold he'd made out of his tie, Gordon asked, "Can I take this off?" 

"You might want to wait until after we're parked." 

Gordon could hear the smile in the other man's voice despite the pain behind it. "Why, do you--Gaaah!" 

Gordon's stomach suddenly did a flip. It was like being on a rollercoaster as the ground disappeared beneath them. From his first experience with the bat-car, he knew that it must be the jumping feature. They had just leapt over something large, and the jarring crash a moment later confirmed it. The vehicle slowed to a crawl before stopping. "How do you do that every night?" Gordon waited a moment to let his senses settle before removing the blindfold. 

A hint of a smile passed over Batman's face as he depressed the button which opened the top hatch. "You get used to it. Be careful getting out; it's slick." 

Any sort of witty retort stuck in his throat as he stood and took in his surroundings. He shouldn't have been surprised that they were in a cave. They must have jumped over a stream in order to get in, but a waterfall blocked his view of anything beyond the entrance. Soft, orange lights like a runway lit the path from the waterfall to where they were parked, though it wasn't bright enough to cut more than a foot or two further into the darkness. Gordon watched Batman half-climb, half-stumble from the vehicle. 

"It's pretty dark in here. We're going to need lights and some tools – a first-aid kit or something like that." Gordon clung to the side of the car as he hopped out, nearly losing his balance twice on the wet rocks before finding his footing. "And how the hell do you move around in this?" 

It wasn't nice, and he would never admit it, but it was fun to watch the commissioner flustered and uncertain. He had enough first-aid equipment tucked away to supply a clinic in case he should ever need it. Though, perhaps, their first concern ought to be with the lighting. While he knew his way around the cave well enough, he didn't want Gordon stumbling. Batman raised a small device to his mouth. "Lights." 

Above them, there was a series of clicking noises as row after row of halogen lights came on. Fortunately, most of the nest of bats that resided in the cave was out hunting for food, so only a few dozen of the tiny animals began screeching in alarm. Even so, it was enough to cause Gordon to start and duck in alarm as they dived and whirled and flew away to find a less offensive place to be. 

"Does the word 'hydrophobia' mean anything to you?" Gordon asked tersely as he once again used the side of the Tumbler to pull himself upright. As he turned to give Batman a properly disapproving glare, his disapproval was silenced as he was finally able to take in the sheer magnitude of their surroundings. "Holy Mary... What is all this? Is this where you... live?" 

"This is where I work." There was a note of pride in Batman's voice as he looked out over the cavern. The equipment he had temporarily set up at the harbor was small-time compared to the elaborate computer system he and Lucius had worked so long to install in the caves under Wayne Manor. "If you can help me remove the bullet, I'll start running a full forensic panel on it. I should have something for you by tomorrow evening." 

Gordon picked his way carefully along to follow behind the other man as he moved from the car's platform down several tiers to a small workstation. "That's all well and good, but I'm more concerned about you." 

"I'll be fine. The suit was able to stop most of the force behind the shot. He just got lucky finding one of the seams. You should be able to reach it without too much effort." 

"I hate to tell you this..." After the fuss he had made in order to be able to come, he felt incredibly silly saying, "We never actually covered bullet extraction in any of my training courses, just what to do until the ambulance comes." 

"It doesn't have to be a perfect fix; just enough to keep me going." He motioned past Gordon to a large metal cabinet. "There are some blue parcels in there. Get one." 

Once Gordon obediently moved to do as he was told, Batman removed the cape from around his neck and set about inspecting it for damage. To Gordon, he seemed more concerned with it than the bullet hole that was now visible in his side. Once he was satisfied that it hadn't been punctured, he neatly folded it and set the bundle of material aside on the table. When Gordon came back over, he gave a brief run-down of the contents so that the commissioner wouldn't feel so nervous about what he had to do. 

"Everything inside is already sterile, and there should be gloves for your safety. It doesn't feel very deep, but there are scalpels and scissors if you can't find it, tweezers and hemostats to get the bullet and any fragments of the suit that broke off. If you don't have to do any cutting to find it, butterfly bandages should be fine; otherwise, the flat packages are suture sets. Don't worry about being neat, just stitch it up the best you can. Brown bottle is iodine; it goes on before you start. Purple bottle is Dermabond; it goes on after the stitches." 

"Dermal-bond? Like, glue for your skin?" 

"Not 'like'. It'll keep everything in place when you're done." 

"That's all well and good, but how am I supposed to, you know, _get_ to it?" Batman's head tilted to the side, clearly questioning what he meant. In response, Gordon tapped on one of the panels of the man's armor. 

The urge to laugh was strong, and he hated the fact that he couldn't be himself around Gordon. Even so, he couldn't entirely keep himself from smiling at his friend. "It comes off." 

Gordon felt his cheeks burn slightly at the thought. The idea of being permitted such an intimate look at the man behind the mask was causing his heart rate to pick up. As Batman set about opening the kit and spreading the instruments for Gordon to access, the commissioner moved around him to get a better look at where the bullet had pierced the joint of the suit. "Shit." Gordon rubbed his fingers together, staring at the blood there in horror. It was far too real, and he wasn't sure if he could handle it. 

"It'll be fine." Batman turned to put a reassuring hand on Gordon's shoulder. He'd have to make sure Gordon was clean of any forensic evidence before he left, but until then, he trusted the other man to take care of him. 

"So how do I get this off?" Gordon brushed his fingertips along the breastplate, unable to keep himself from once again tracing the bat symbol that had been drawing his attention for months now. 

Batman lifted his left arm and turned it over. With the other hand, he took hold of Gordon's and brought it up to guide along the clasps that held his gauntlet in place. After two dull snaps, Gordon was able to slide the piece off his arm. He swallowed hard then ran his thumb along Batman's hand in slow circles. He could feel nervous laughter welling up inside of him as he was allowed to continue unhindered. "I should...probably get the other one," he stated softly, forcing his limbs to do as they were told. 

It was easy enough to remove the other gauntlet, though the rest of the suit looked like it would be more of a challenge. Together, they managed to get the shoulder plates detached, and another half dozen individual pieces of armor were piled on the workbench before they had enough off to reach the injury. Of course, below the Kevlar plating was another layer of armor. Some sort of woven metal chain was under that, which proved to be more difficult to remove as it involved Batman lifting and twisting in a way that had him gritting his teeth against the pain in his side. 

"Aren't there any painkillers in that thing?" When Gordon found himself confronted with yet another layer under the metal weave, he stopped what he was doing to hunt for a numbing agent. 

"Drugs dull the senses." Batman leaned forward so that his palms were flat on the table in front of him. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath. As he exhaled, the pain and tension in his posture dissipated. "It's fine; we can keep going." 

"'What doesn't kill us' is just a saying, you know. You don't actually have to test it out on yourself." He got a grunt from the other man, equivalent to what typically passed as a laugh for him. That was a good sign at least. Standing behind him, he ran a hand along the black bodysuit that was hopefully the last layer Batman had on. Trying to keep the mood light, he added, "It must be a real pain when you have to go to the bathroom." 

"It isn't as if I can use public restrooms anyway," Batman replied as he pulled the edge of the cloth up just enough so that it was out of Gordon's way without actual struggling to get it all the way off. 

Gordon sank to his knees so that he would have a better view of what he was doing. The entire idea of cutting into another person's flesh was nauseating, but at least the wound wasn't bleeding profusely. After snapping on the latex gloves, Gordon followed the carefully delivered instructions to disinfect the wound and remove the splintered armor from Batman's side. Though his hands remained clenched on the table as Gordon worked, he didn't make a single noise of protest as Gordon rooted around for the piece of evidence that had been so painfully collected. 

Fortunately, the wound was shallow as Batman had predicted. The Kevlar had kept the bullet from piercing anything beyond the muscle, and he managed to extract it without nearly as much trouble as he had thought it would take. The stitches were clumsy, and each draw of the needle made Gordon's stomach tighten even though Batman didn't seem to mind. When he was stitched, glued, and bandaged, Gordon heaved a sigh of relief, as if he had been the one under the knife instead. 

As he remained kneeling beside the other man, Gordon decided he had clearly lost his mind. Insanity was the only thing that could have made him imagine quite so vividly the number of other things that he'd rather be doing while in their current position. It was ridiculous, and yet, he couldn't bring himself to stand up and back away. Instead, another injury on the man's back grabbed his attention; it was long and jagged scar about the length of Gordon's palm. He trailed his fingers along its raised surface, practically petting the other man as he ran his hand along the scar over and over. 

It should have been awkward; Gordon knew he would have been uncomfortable with any of his officers stroking his back. But instead, Batman actually leaned into the touch. That was when he lost possession of his common sense altogether. Tilting his head down, Gordon pressed his lips against the pink scar tissue. Instead of jerking away from him in either surprise or disgust, Batman made a noise that sent a shiver down Gordon's spine. 

Batman's hands curled into fists on the table in front of him, and he drew in a ragged breath. As long as he was already having a mental break, Gordon decided to press his luck by kissing him again a little higher on his spine. This time, Batman gritted out his name, and it really was every bit as exciting as Gordon had thought it would be to hear. 

Standing up behind him, Gordon wrapped one arm around the man's chest and the other around his stomach before pressing the length of his body against Batman's. Both of them were breathing hard as Batman brought up one arm to cover Gordon's while the other remained against the table supporting their weight. 

Gordon drew in a deep breath and slowly released it before he was able to give voice to the thought that had been circling his mind since they had left the rooftop miles away. "I suppose it would be ungrateful of me to criticize you for being a reckless idiot since I wouldn't be alive right now if you weren't." 

"I can take it," was Batman's only explanation, though he did allow himself a moment to lace his fingers with Gordon's. 

It was utter lunacy, but Gordon couldn't help the grin that spread across his face. Pressing himself more firmly against Batman's backside, he asked suggestively, "Can you really?" 

Batman's head dipped lower to his chest, and his voice was strained as he replied, "No limits." 

The way Batman squirmed under him was making his head light. The other man was clearly fighting to keep himself in check, and Gordon had an overwhelming desire to make him lose control of that hold. A small sliver of skin was visible below the rim of his scowling helmet and the high neck of his catsuit. He had to drape himself across Batman's back to reach it, but the result was worth the effort. Hearing his name moaned with such need eliminated any last doubts about what he was doing. 

Gordon's heart was pounding as he took a step back from the other man. When Batman only continued to stand there, bent over the edge of the table, Gordon had to take him by the arm and turn him around. It was too much seeing him like that. Facing the other man again. Gordon reached out to wrap an arm around Batman's waist while being mindful of the large patch covering his stitches. Like this, Batman looked even more desirable. His eyes were squeezed shut, and his lips were parted just slightly in an inviting way. His hands were clenched at his sides, and he stood completely still as Gordon once again explored his body, hands roaming over the thin material that separated them. 

Tilting his head up, Gordon brought their mouths close enough that their breath mingled as both men panted softly. He stopped just short of actually kissing Batman then waited to see what the other man would do. When he only stood there, Gordon pushed himself up the extra inch or so needed to drop a tender kiss on the edge of Batman's mouth. He got a sharp inhale of breath at the touch, and he became a little bolder at not being rejected. It was frustrating not being able to touch more than a small portion of his face, but Gordon did the best he could, trailing soft kisses along his jaw. 

When Batman still didn't react, Gordon asked softly, "No?" 

Eyes still shut, Batman gritted out the word, "Yes." It was all Gordon needed to hear before taking hold of one of Batman's hands which he placed on his hip. Dark eyes flew open the moment Gordon began moving him, and he stared at its new resting place for several seconds. 

"You're sure?" was the only other thing Batman asked. As soon as Gordon had nodded in the affirmative, Batman pulled their bodies together. There was nothing tender in it this time, just raw need and desire. Batman's hands were tugging at the commissioner's shirt impatiently. When it didn't cooperate with him, he gave a small growl, and buttons went scattering to the floor of the cave. Gordon couldn't bring himself to care because Batman's hands were finally on his skin as their mouths clashed for control. He wanted to touch more of the other man in return, but there was still half a suit of armor between them besides the layers underneath. Plus, that damned helmet he wore kept him from being able to have access to more than just a small piece of Batman's face. 

It was Gordon's turn to growl in frustration as he was thwarted in his effort. The sound of it made Batman give another little moan, which left Gordon feeling even more confident. "Want you," he stated, deciding to press his luck. He didn't give Batman any time to think about it, though before moving Batman's hand to cover his crotch. "Is that what you want?" 

Batman's jaw was slack as his fingers felt out the contours of Gordon's erection under the fabric of his trousers. A few moments ticked by in silence before Batman moved again. The utility belt that had been discarded previously was retrieved so that he could rummage through it until he found the same small device that had activated the rows of lights built into the cave's walls. With a single command spoken into the contraption, the cave was cloaked in darkness once more. There was just enough illumination coming in from outside the waterfall and from the twinkling lights on the electronics around them that he was able to make out the line of the figure in front of him. It struck him as an odd thing to do until he saw Batman reach up. There was the unmistakable snapping of the suit's locks being released, and then the mask was set aside on the table behind them. Reflexively, Gordon began to flinch away. As much as he wanted to be able to touch the other man, he wasn't sure he was ready for the responsibility of knowing. Fortunately, the soft glow wasn't enough to be able to make out any identifiable features, especially after Batman reached out and removed his glasses to set them aside as well. 

It felt wonderful to finally be able to run his fingers through the others mans hair, cupping the back of his head to pull him down for another kiss. This time it was Gordon who moaned as Batman's mouth nipped and sucked at his neck, being mindful to move the collar of his shirt aside so that he wouldn't leave a visible mark. Gordon couldn't care if he did, though; at the moment, he could barely think. He did have enough possession of his senses to know that there were hands on his belt, working open his fly. 

"Yes," he affirmed again, sensing Batman's hesitation to continue, but he never expected the other man to drop to his knees as readily as if it had been an order. Gordon didn't know what he had thought would happen, or how it would feel. First there was a sudden coolness of the air as his erection was freed from his briefs, then he cried out, his hands burying in Batman's hair as he was swallowed. It felt so amazing. He grabbed Batman's head between both hands as if to pull him closer, to get him to take in more, but he couldn't even think enough to complete the motion. It was hard enough to simply remain standing when the other man began to _suck_ on him. One hand was creeping up the back of Gordon's thighs while the other massaged his balls. 

It seemed like an eternity since the Policeman's Ball, the last time he'd slept next to anyone let alone had sex: almost four months of too-brief naps on the couch before going back to the office. As badly as he wanted to find release, he didn't want the moment to be over too quickly. He wanted to bury himself in the other man – something there was no way he could ask for. The very idea was making his cheeks burn. Voicing the desire was impossible, especially since Batman had just been shot! There was no way he could be that selfish. Instead, he took the back of Batman's head in his hand and rolled his hips forward to fuck his mouth over and over again. Batman's only response was to make low, needy sounds from the back of his throat. Once or twice, he raised a hand to Gordon's hips to slow his motions to keep from choking, but otherwise, he let Gordon have everything he needed. 

'Amazing' was the only thing he could think of to describe the intensity of the act as he came, and after as Batman continue to nuzzle at him even as he began to soften again. Gordon could only stand there, panting and petting Batman's hair for an interminable period of time before Batman finally put his pants back in order and stood to face him. There was a moment of awkward silence between them until Batman finally turned away to retrieve his helmet from the table. 

"I'll have a full report on your desk by tomorrow evening, sooner if I'm able." 

"But, wait— But you..." Gordon stumbled over his words, having no idea how they had gotten back to talking about the case. 

"There are more important things to focus on for the moment." Even if walk straight was going to be challenging for a while. But the scumbag that they were after had already killed too many people. For that, he was going to be brought to justice. For having almost killed Gordon, Batman wouldn't feel the slightest bit of remorse if he were forced to break both the man's legs before dragging him into the police station. 

Gordon flinched as Batman brought the lights back up. "I know that, but what about you?" 

The edges of his mouth were turned up slightly as he turned his head to look at the commissioner. Having spent enough time together by now, Gordon easily recognized that for Batman, the man was positively grinning. His voice was filled with promise as he said, "Next time." 

*****


	19. Chapter 19

~April 6~

The guilt hadn't begun to gnaw at him until after the commissioner had been returned to police headquarters to check on their case. Excitement and a long-absent sense of closeness had kept his reason at bay. Finding himself alone in his penthouse allowed shame and an almost overwhelming sense of loneliness to war within him as he washed the black greasepaint from his eyes and returned the suit to its hiding place. If he could just take a little rest, maybe the thoughts swirling through his mind was slow down enough to make sense.

*****

As the rest of the staff had been sent to the newly renovated mansion, Alfred alone had remained at the penthouse to take care of their employer until Wayne was ready to move into the family home permanently. And since Wayne wasn't likely to be up until mid-day, Alfred had indulged in a lie-in rather than getting up at the usual time. Wayne had very likely only returned from his rounds a short while ago, and with nothing pressing to take care of, Alfred decided that he would go to the kitchen to make something special for breakfast. Wearing his robe rather than his suit, he crossed the room to let himself out. 

Upon opening the door, however, he found Wayne seated on the floor, propped up only by the wall holding him in place. His hair was sweaty and up in spikes, and only some of his armor had been removed. He seemed to have given up on the rest in favor of no longer being upright. 

"Master Bruce?" Alfred hurried to his side, worry lacing his words as he attempted to stir the man from his doze. "Are you hurt? What happened?"

At first, he couldn't quite make out what was being asked of him, but he could hear the concern in Alfred's voice. Attempting to wave him off, Wayne managed a rather unconvincing "I'm fine." After a quick stretch, he added, "It was just a really long night... I'm really tired. But I needed to talk to you − I didn't know what else to do."

Alfred scowled, glad that his young charge was uninjured but relief quickly became irritation at his own fear. "There's a door. You use it to enter rooms. You are more than welcome to come in whenever you wish."

"It was early; I didn't want to wake you."

"No, you just wanted to scare me to death."

Alfred's expression softened as he held out a hand to Wayne. "Come on, up then. Let's get you cleaned up, and you can tell me all about whatever's been bothering you."

Any of his lingering fears were soothed when he was met with compliance, and worry was replaced by hopefulness. Wayne hadn't sought his advice in some time, not that it had stopped him from giving it whenever he'd felt that it was appropriate. For quite a while after Rachel's death, he'd been afraid that Wayne was going out looking for excuses to die as well. But now, he had no trouble guiding his friend over to a chair by the low-burning fireplace where he had been reading the night before.

Wayne only stayed seated a moment. No sooner had Alfred sat down himself than Wayne was back up on his feet, pacing the short length of the rug in front of the fire. "I may have made a mistake," he began, rubbing his hands together so that he would have something to do with them. "A big one."

"This might not be a particularly delicate question, sir, but whose mistake are we referring to here? Yours, or the Batman's?"

"A little of both, I think. It's a, uh, a personal matter, and I don't know what to do."

Alfred rose and took hold of Wayne's shoulders in order to gently push him back into the armchair. Wayne winced in pain as he did so, verifying Alfred's assumption that Wayne hadn't managed to pass a night on patrol without some sort of injury. "You know, if you spent less of your time in a bat suit and more time in your pajamas, then you would be able to think with a clearer head."

"Batman went off radar for two months, and nearly a year's work was undone. I'll sleep again when things are back to where they were this summer."

"I'll hold you to that, sir. And if you forget your promise, I'll start drugging your tea." It was an idle threat, but Wayne wasn't entirely certain that Alfred wouldn't. After a brief moment's absence, Alfred returned with a container of cold cream and a cloth. "Close your eyes, please," he stated before dabbing at the grease paint around Wayne's eyes. 

When Wayne offered nothing further, Alfred asked, "What is it that has you up so uncharacteristically early this morning?"

"I've been thinking a lot. Before the−" He had to draw in a shaky breath before he could force himself to say the words he needed to. "Before the explosion, Rachel and I spent a lot of time talking about what life would be like after Batman. What we would do, where we might go, the person I could finally be when I was free of him." 

Alfred hesitated at the mention of her name. He quickly set about the task of cleaning Wayne's face so that he wouldn't have to meet the other man's gaze as he stated, "Ms Dawes cared about you a great deal, sir, but she never would have wanted you to go into exile from the human race because of her."

"I know that. Even so, since that day, it didn't seem possible that there could be anyone else. She was killed because of me, Alfred, and it's still happening now. The people I care about are only going to end up getting hurt because of me. And after these last few months, it doesn't seem like it's even possible for there to be a life without Batman. And don't think that I can't feel you frowning at me."

"You know I don't like when you talk like that. I don't like thinking of you losing yourself in the madness of this place." He attempted to wipe Wayne's face clean again with minimal success. "If nothing else, think how much you could save on cold cream without the Batman." Wayne laughed in response. "But more than anything, I don't like seeing you get hurt."

"What if I'm not losing myself in him? What if Batman _is_ a part of me? What if he's more _me_ than Bruce Wayne is?"

Alfred wiped away the last of the cream as best he could and then knelt in front of Wayne, a hand squeezing each of Wayne's arms. "You, sir, _are_ Bruce Wayne. You are a good man. You are kind, loving, intelligent, and more giving than anyone else I know. What you are _not_ is that mindless society image plastered across the front of magazines and newspapers. _That's_ the lie, and while I don't like it, I do appreciate the effort to keep me and the others safe. What I think is that Batman is the way you express yourself in order to get a terrible, bloody job done − but he's nothing more than that. He's a tool for you, a symbol for Gotham, and _Bruce Wayne_ is the one responsible for deciding how that symbol is portrayed, how Batman will act, how far he'll go, because Bruce Wayne is the one in charge."

"Do you want to know a secret?" Alfred gave a small nod to encourage him on. "I know you worry about it, but I don't want to die. Stitches and broken bones might be necessary to get the job done, but I don't want to die out there. And I don't want fear of losing friends and family to keep me from having them. I just don't know how to juggle it all yet." 

"I think that's just about the best gift that anyone could have given me." Alfred neatly covered a subtle dab at his eyes by returning to his own chair across from Wayne's. "So if you have all of this figured out on your own already, what is it that you wished to speak with me about?"

"I have no idea how to reconcile the things I want. It's not safe to be myself, to make friends, to start a family, but I don't want to make relationships based on a person I'm not."

"You have to separate your work from your private life. You don't act like a dim socialite with me or with Lucius."

"I trust you both." The simple statement was made as if it were obvious and Alfred should have known that to be the case. 

Leaning in closer, Alfred gave his hand an affectionate pat. "Maybe you need to learn to trust more people. An actor plays a part on stage, but he doesn't continue the show at home. Chose your friends wisely and trust them with more of yourself. You could also try going out with a few ladies whose intelligence is higher than that of the average simian at Gotham Zoo."

"That's not very charitable of you," Wayne stated, though a grin was turning up the edges of his mouth.

"You deserve more than what you allow yourself. It's no wonder you have trouble finding purpose in life outside of the mask. Life means nothing if you don't live it a little." 

"That brings me back to the actual problem I wanted to talk to you about..." His eyes were locked on the floor, his face full of guilt. "There _is_ one person who's become very special to me."

Alfred looked delighted by this rather unexpected news. "That's a good thing, isn't it?"

Wayne drew in a deep breath to steady himself, and Alfred laid a gentle hand on his arm, offering his support without pressing the matter. 

"He's married," Wayne blurted out, unable to think of a better way to say it.

Years of the finest training kept Alfred from visibly doing a double-take. Instead, he gave a slow and thoughtful nod to allow him more time to process what had been said. "I can see how that might present a problem."

Wayne gave a short, bitter laugh before responding. "I seem to have a talent for being unlucky in love."

"Does this person not return your feelings?"

"I think he does, but that's another part of the problem. It's Batman that he cares for." Wayne let his head drop into his hands, silently cursing himself for being an idiot. He should have kept things more professional between them; then he wouldn't have known what an amazing man Gordon was, wouldn't have wanted to get closer to him, wouldn't have ever made the mistake of holding him close.

Alfred struggled to find something positive he could say despite his initial floundering. He wanted Wayne to rejoin the world again, and he needed to be encouraging. Somehow. "Can I safely assume that we are referring to Commissioner Gordon?" The way Wayne looked up at him in surprise told him that he was right. "Don't be so shocked. There are very few people you talk about regularly, and even fewer that you do with the affection you reserve for the commissioner. I suppose it's better that he should find himself attracted to Batman than to that ridiculous persona you show the media. At least the Batman shares many of your better qualities. He's dependable, loyal, dedicated, honest, morally upright, seeks justice where there is none. It's completely understandable that a man like Jim Gordon could be drawn to that. Not to mention the fact that you both understand the pain, the stress, and the loneliness of the job."

"You don't sound nearly as upset by this as I thought you'd be."

"If you're referring to the fact that the commissioner is also a man, then I will say that it was a bit surprising, and it wouldn't be what I would choose for myself. But it's _your_ life, not mine. I would give you my blessing if you came home one day and told me that the person you loved was an alien from outer space, so long as you were truly happy."

"What about the part where he’s already married?"

"That's a bit trickier." Wayne nodded in agreement. "Speaking in a purely hypothetical way, let's say for a moment that the commissioner weren't already married. Building a relationship together solely on the basis of your work together as Batman really isn't well-founded. Batman is only a _part_ of who you are. Does he get on with _all_ of you? If he only likes Batman and not Bruce Wayne, then it isn't something you want to pursue."

Wayne nodded again, a contemplative expression replacing the one of despondence. 

"I can't begin to guess about his relationship with Mrs Gordon. I don't know either of them personally. It may be that theirs is a marriage of convenience, that they have an open relationship to see others, or that he has certain interests that he doesn't want her to learn about. If this is something that you truly wish to pursue, then please keep in mind that there is another person involved. Remember how painful it was when Ms Dawes began seeing Mr Dent. People are complex creatures. Trust your heart, but also remember to tread lightly so no one gets hurt − including you."

"I know I don't thank you enough for putting up with me, Alfred." He reached out to rest his hand atop Alfred's. "Thank you."

*****


	20. Chapter 20

~April 13~

Babs came downstairs and stood quietly in the doorway watching her father work. He had spread a blanket out over the back of the couch and had changed into his pajamas, but instead of going to sleep, he had opened a number of case files, spreading them all over the makeshift bed and coffee table. The sense that Gordon usually got when Batman stood behind him for too long began to creep up his spine, and he turned to find his daughter standing there instead.

"Shouldn't you be in bed?"

"Shouldn't you?"

"A perk of being an adult." Rather than telling her to go back to her room, Gordon carefully shifted his piles so that there would be a space beside him, and Babs didn't need any more invitation than that to hurry over and cuddle up beside him. Gordon put an arm around her, certain that it wouldn't be too many more years before she would be too old to want any more from him than to borrow the car keys. Assuming that Barbara didn't actually follow through with her plans to move away with the kids. 

Sensing his heavy mood, Babs hung onto him tighter for a moment before redirecting their stunted conversation. "You know, Dad, they make medications for people with insomnia. You don't have to sit up all night doing work."

"What do you know about it?" he teased, gently pulling on one of her pigtails.

"We have cable. I know more about weak bladder, bariatric surgery, and erectile dysfunction than anyone my age should be forced to know."

There was no way he could un-hear the word 'erectile' coming from his little baby girl's mouth, and Gordon had to fight back the urge to cringe. "Right, no more television for you until you're thirty." 

"You could always spring for a TiVo," she suggested innocently. "Then we wouldn't have to be subjected to the questionable content of infomercials anymore."

Gordon's only reply was a skeptically raised eyebrow, and she decided that it was time for another strategic redirect. Reaching out, Babs picked up the nearest folder and began looking over the top page. "So what's been keeping you up if it's not that you can't sleep?"

"Oh, no honey, don't mess with that." He tried to take it back from her, but Babs shifted so that it was just out of his reach.

"I'm not a little kid, Dad. I'm not going to get it all out of order. I just want to see what you're up to all day." 

When she turned the top page over, she saw what it was that Gordon was trying to keep her from looking at. The woman hadn't just been killed; her entire face appeared to have been melted off. According to the notes, it hadn't happened postmortem, though it was difficult to tell much from the picture because she had been weighted down in the river for nearly four months before turning up in the spring.

"You have a lot of papers here for one murder," she said at length. Her voice was soft but surprisingly steady as she continued flipping through the file. "Is this why you've been gone so much more recently?"

"We found the first one about a month ago, yes." This time Gordon leaned forward to take the file from her. "This isn't anything that you need to be thinking about before bed."

"You are," she said again. "Even being an adult doesn't make it any better."

"No, it doesn't. But it's my job to make sure these sorts of things are stopped."

"Technically, your job is to control spending, implement departmental activities, and represent the department in public relations matters, but I think I understand what you mean."

"When did you get so smart?"

"When I Googled you." She turned a smug expression on him that reminded Gordon a great deal of Bruce Wayne. That made him smile, and he leaned his head down to kiss her cheek. "I was curious what you do at work, so I ran you through a search engine. You should really tell whoever's in charge of it that the Department webpage is really boring."

"You could have just asked me if you wanted to know what I was doing."

"I could have, but you probably would have made up something generic because you didn't want me to worry about you. I thought I would check out the public records first." Babs turned to lean back against his side. "But I would still like it if you'd tell me anyway."

"Right now, what I'm doing is trying to figure out how six completely unrelated victims ended up being killed by the same perpetrator."

"You're sure it's the same person?"

"The older bodies weren't found for a long time, so it isn't likely that news coverage would have caused a copycat."

"What if it's a new signature execution style for a gang or mob family? It could be several people acting under a—What?"

"Remind me to tell your mother that you aren't supposed to watch _Law & Order_ anymore." 

"I'd be willing to give up television completely if it would get you and Mom talking again."

"What's going on between your mother and me has nothing to do with anything you or your brother are doing – or aren't doing. It's not about you."

"Duh. Like, half the kids in my grade have parents who are divorced. I know how it goes. But you've been looking a lot happier the last week or two. I was sort of hoping that that meant you and Mom were getting along better again."

"Have I?" Things were still swamped at work, there was a serial killer on the loose who had no compunctions about killing cops, and his wife was planning to leave him. Aside from regular lunches with Wayne, the only thing that seemed to be going right in his life was a moment of blind stupidity with the Batman. Just remembering it brought a slight tinge to his cheeks, and he was immensely grateful that Babs wasn't looking up at him. She had picked up another case file and was looking through the crime scene report instead. 

"Why would you say that?" he asked, reaching out to take this one from her as well.

Babs relented and handed over the file. "Because even though you're not home much, when you are, you seem to be smiling more often. Why are you two so mad at each other?"

"We're not mad." Gordon smoothed her hair and kissed her on the top of her head. "It's just that we both love you very much, and... and we want different things for you. Nobody's saying anything about getting divorced."

"Right. And that's why you've been sleeping on the couch all year, and Mom's been surfing real estate websites."

"She just wants you and Jimmy to be safe."

"You would leave your job and all of this to move somewhere 'safe'?"

Gordon was silent for a long time before he finally answered. "No."

She surprised him by nodding in approval. "Good. You're doing a great job here, and I don't think that you should quit. Not that I don't wish that you were around more or anything, but I know what it's like now. Having someone point a gun at you. I'm really glad that you're protecting people from having that happen to them, too. And the people like this Richard Wallace guy. You're making sure that he didn't die for no reason. Something, somewhere, some piece of evidence is going to help you find who did it and stop him from doing it to anyone else. You and Batman."

Gordon hugged her close. His chest felt tight, but at the same time, it was as if some of the weight he'd been carrying for the last year had lifted with her words. "I love you."

"I love you, too, Daddy. But even so, you really need to take a break!"

"I wish there were time. This creep seems to be enjoying the fact that we can't figure out who he is or what he wants, and he's going to keep killing people until we do. There doesn't seem to be any reason behind the victims."

"The only thing connecting them is that the same person killed them all? Not even the location of the murders?"

Gordon suppressed an urge to roll his eyes. Watch a few episodes of _CSI_ , and everyone thought they could solve cases. But maybe talking it through out loud would help him pinpoint something he'd missed while looking it over. "We can't pinpoint the exact location of all the murders as at least two of the bodies were dumped, but the others weren't in similar locations, and all of the vics came from different backgrounds, different parts of the city, different genders, different ethnicities, different jobs."

"Well, he didn't just go 'eeny, meeny, miny, moe' to pick them. That would be stupid. You'd have to tell the press to start calling him Captain Lameness or something, and if he's trying to mess with you, that means he thinks he's cool for being able to stump you. There has to be a connection." 

It was late enough that he was willing to grasp at a few straws. "All right: impress me with what television has taught you."

"You know, there are these funny things with lots of pieces of paper between two sort of stiff bits of cardboard. They have printing on them. I read those." She stuck her tongue out at him, trying not to be caught smiling. "One possibility is that even though they didn't work in the same place, maybe they had some mode of transit in common, like the monorail. _Strangers on a Train_ going to the same daycare or job or their favorite Starbucks."

"Daycare?"

"Yeah, that place where you send your kids when you work all day."

"Maybe I _should_ stay at home more; you're getting a really smart mouth." He punched her on the arm lightly, feigning disapproval while he thought over what she had said. When Dent had wanted to get revenge against him, he hadn't faced him directly: he had gone after his children. They had run criminal record checks on the immediate relatives of the victims looking for any suspicious activity that would have drawn mob attention, but they hadn't focused on them as targets. It had never occurred to him that members of the families might be connected.

"Hey, you're having an idea."

"I'm allowed to."

"Yeah, but it was something that I said, so you should have to share! What about daycare?"

"Not daycare, but the parents, the families. We didn't take a close look at them, and it might be worth having another go. This guy likes the personal touch." Babs looked pleased with herself again, and Gordon thought for a moment that he really ought to bring her along sometime when he went out with Wayne. The two of them would really get along. He acted like a twelve-year-old half the time, and his daughter would get a kick out of it.

"How do you know for sure?"

"I had the pleasure of meeting him for a few minutes before he got away. Bona fide whacko; we're talking a few nuts short of Grandma's fruitcake. He missed the memo that the mask and cape getup is already in use elsewhere."

"He's going for a cheesy Yosemite Sam, bank robber number? Seriously? _Lame._ "

"No, it's more of a creepy kabuki mask number. But it was definitely personal. He—" Gordon stopped himself from telling his young daughter that the serial killer had very nearly succeeded in killing him. "He said it was revenge, something about Batman."

"I'm not surprised that the Batman has managed to royally piss someone off. What did he say?"

Gordon closed his eyes, trying to think back. He had been scared out of his mind, standing on a very small ledge with a madman. Him... He'll suffer. You're his friend. At the time, Gordon had simply assumed that the killer was referring to Batman. _To make him suffer. You're his friend. He'll suffer greatly from your sudden departure from his life._ It wasn't unusual for the police commissioner to be a target, but to be singled out as the person close enough to the actual target to make them suffer was unusual. The perp had implied that it would be the same way he would have suffered if Dent had actually killed Jimmy. Besides his wife or his own parents, he couldn't think of anyone he was that close to. Stephens and a few others on the Force were very important to him, but they all had families of their own, closer targets.

"Whoever he's looking for, Captain Lameness said that I'm his friend. That he would suffer if I wasn't around anymore. The only person I can think of that I would be that close to would be Batman. I'm the only person he tries to contact in the department; we do all of our coordination together. But when Batman showed up on the scene, he treated Batman more as an annoyance, like another obstacle between him and his goal – not like the actual goal itself."

"So maybe Batman isn't the target. Maybe it's someone who considers you more of a friend than you realize. But I can't imagine you being buddies with anyone who has criminal ties."

"No, but I do associate with a lot of people who anger the criminal element."

"The new district attorney?"

Gordon laughed. "We're hardly friends. I think I used up all the favors I might have had with him already. And the assistant DA isn't all the much better. He certainly isn't anything like Rachel." Thinking of Rachel brought to mind another of her close friends. Wayne had certain done a lot that winter to draw attention to himself from the organized crime of Gotham, and it was still a little disconcerting how much Wayne seemed to look to him for approval.

Out of nowhere, Babs stated definitively, "I think I'm going to be the district attorney when I'm older. Then you won't have to worry about the people you catch getting off so easily." Gordon laughed, and she turned to look up at him with such a serious expression that he stopped instantly. "It wouldn't be that difficult to pass the Bar. I'm a really good student, I work hard, and I have the very best criminal justice adviser in the whole world."

He tugged on her pigtail again, tilting her head closer so that he could kiss the top of it. "I think that you should do what you really want to do, not what you think would be of help to me."

"I think I like the idea of being able to help people who otherwise might not be able to help themselves. I mean, how else are you supposed to stop gangsters from controlling everything? You have to have good people in office making good decisions and, and... stuff. Who knows? Maybe after a few years of being district attorney, I'll take your job. Then you could be a cop again, and I could _make_ you take time off."

Gordon avoided pointing out that by the time she was old enough to think about taking public office, he would be old enough to be thinking about retirement rather than being an investigator. "Do you have a law school all picked out, too?"

"Oh, the usual: Yale, Harvard, Columbia. They'll all be fighting over my application, of course, but I think I would rather stay here and go to school in Gotham. There's no better way to learn about what you're going to be fighting than to be exposed to it."

"Well, my little lawyer-to-be, if you want to keep getting those good grades so that you _can_ go to an outrageously expensive Ivy League school, you should get to bed."

"Are you going to put these away and go to bed too?"

"In a minute. I need to make a couple of notes, then I'll hit the sack. I promise."

"In a real bed?" She turned a stern expression of disapproval on him as she stood.

"I'll let you in on a secret, but you can tell no one." He waited until she had unconsciously leaned in closer to say, "Your mother snores. Like a freight train."

Babs rolled her eyes dramatically at him. "Fine. You'll regret it when your back goes out on you at work one day, old man."

"I'm sorry, we old people have trouble hearing. You said you didn't want your allowance anymore, right?"

"I said 'Goodnight, Dad, and I love you'."

"Oh, much better. Goodnight."

*****


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long since I posted last. I've been going back to fix the handful of typos in the last twenty chapters, and I've gotten the next few bits finished or almost done. I'm hoping to get a few chapters up before test time. Also, chapter 13 might be a good one to look at as a refresher before the rest of this plot arc if it's been a while. :)

~April 16~

Gordon pinched the bridge of his nose and tried not to make a frustrated noise into the phone. It wasn't the man's fault that his employer was so flighty. "Mr Pennyworth, I'm sorry to keep bothering you. If he's not in now, do you know when Mr Wayne will be getting back?"

 _I truly wish that I could be of more help, Commissioner._ Even over the phone, Gordon could hear the anxiety and hesitation in the other man's voice.

"Listen, I only keep calling because I'm worried. We did some more digging and, um…" The connections to Wayne were all circumstantial at best, and he didn't want to worry him further. "We've had a bit of a break in a case, and it looks like Wayne might be involved--at least peripherally. I need to talk to him and get a few things straightened out, but that can wait. Right now, I just want to know that he's all right."

_I'll leave a message on all the numbers he might check. Master Bruce--he hasn't returned any of my calls, either._

"Dammit…" The word slipped out before he could stop it. "All right. I really appreciate your help. I'll keep an eye out as well, and if I run into him first, then I'll let you know."

_I appreciate that, sir. I'm used to him being out all night, though not all day as well. He usually checks in with me when he's going to be so late, but I'm certain that he's all right._

A knock on his door interrupted him. Looking up, Gordon covered the receiver of his phone to say, "Come in! I'm sorry, Mr Pennyworth, I need to go. Thank you for all your help."

"Got a minute, Boss?" Bullock lingered near the door, though the Commissioner waved at him to come in. "We've got a live one for ya."

Scrubbing at his face, Gordon shook his head with a groan. "If this one's in handcuffs or in possession of a firearm, then I'm not in."

Bullock gave a disinterested shrug. "Neither, though if I was you, I'd be sneaking out the back way anyhow. This one's in Armani and smells like he just crawled out of a bottle. He's across the hall making gooey eyes at one of the sergeants even though he's asking for you."

A wave of relief washed over him, bubbling up until he had to laugh. He felt a little ridiculous for having spent the better part of the day worrying that the worst had happened to his friend. "It wouldn't do any good to hide," he replied, standing up. "He knows where I live. Did he happen to say what took him so long to get back to me?"

The detective shrugged and chewed harshly on the toothpick in his mouth, wishing it were a cigarette instead. "Man wasn't making a whole lot of sense in my direction--he was too busy staring at a couple of things I don't got. Look, I know the guy's like some sorta cute and cuddly mascot, but really, why the hell do you keep him around?"

"I assume you mean beyond the immediate need to take a statement from him regarding a serial murderer. If you were to ask Stephens, he'd say it was because of the free food, the VIP seats, and the fancy cars." Coming over to stand by Bullock, Gordon peered around the door to see Wayne at Detective Montoya's desk, offering her a lopsided, flirtatious grin. 

"Well, Stephens ain't here, and I asked you, not him. You see somethin' there that I don't, and that bugs the hell out of me. I like to think that I can read people pretty good, so what gives?"

"You're reading exactly what he wants you to, Detective. Wayne doesn't like people getting close to him. What better way to keep everyone at arm's length than to act like an irresponsible screwball?" Gordon was clearly irritated with his friend, even as he defended him from Bullock's scrutiny. "He's a good guy, Harvey. Wayne just takes a longer time to get to know than most people, and hockey tickets and Ferraris aside, he's a damn fine person to know. Most of the time."

After a moment's consideration, Bullock added, "The other stuff probably doesn't hurt, either, huh?"

"Strictly between the two of us, I could do with a little less of the fast cars."

The detective leveled an evaluating gaze on Wayne across the room, and his face screwed into a confused expression. "If you say so, Boss; I just don't see it."

Patting Bullock's shoulder, Gordon moved past him to open the door wider and step out into the central office. "Hey, Wayne! It's a little late for lunch! I already ate ten hours ago."

"Perfect, just in time for dinner, then." Rather than dropping the act that he usually put on around others, the flirtatious smile simply turned from Montoya to Gordon as he approached.

"You know, you can come see me sometime without a meal being involved. Come on." He waved Wayne back toward his office. As he stood looking at the other man, it struck Gordon that, while he frequently saw Wayne with a drink in his hand, he had never actually _smelled_ like alcohol. "You didn't drive yourself here, did you?"

Wayne paused, mouth partially open as he sought to formulate a response. "That would be wrong. Which is why you should come out with me." He sounded proud of himself for coming to such a clever solution. "We should go out and get a drink; you can drive."

Moving to his side, Gordon put an arm around Wayne's shoulder and began to steer him to the back. "I think you've had more than enough for one night. You know people have been trying to find you all day, don't you?"

"Why would I know that?" He leaned in, pressing himself against Gordon's side as he staggered alongside the commissioner. "I decided to take a holiday. No work, no meetings, no phone."

Closing the door behind them as they entered the glorified closet that served as his office, Gordon tried to remain patient as he spoke. "What made you decide now was the time for a vacation?"

"It's our anniversary. I wanted some time to myself for a while, and the phone only gets in the way."

That gave Gordon pause. "I'm sorry -- our what?"

Checking his watch, Wayne replied, "I know it's a little early. It was almost another three hours before they brought me in here, but I figure it's close enough, right?"

"Jesus, Wayne -- Bruce. I'm sorry."

"No reason to be." He leaned a little closer, pressing harder against Gordon. "You did more than anyone else bothered to, that night."

There weren't many occasions in the last several years that Wayne had allowed himself to lose control this badly. Batman was always on call, every day, every night. However, this once, he'd made an exception and had hung up the cape for the day. There was no purpose in fighting for what couldn't be remembered. The drinks had made remembering his parents easier. "Come on -- let's have a drink."

"I think you've had plenty." Turning them, he led Wayne over to the sofa dominating one side of the room. "And may I suggest that the next time you decide to go on a bender, you tell Mr Pennyworth. I've been calling all day for you, and I think he was starting to get worried."

The thought had clearly never crossed Wayne's mind. He covered his face and swore softly. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize -- It's just, it's been so long since anyone's cared about what I've done with my time."

Gordon brought a hand up to cup the back of Wayne's neck and gave it a gentle squeeze. "There are plenty of people who care about you. And _because_ I care, I think it would be best if we got you home. We can talk about police business tomorrow."

"Talking tomorrow sounds good. Home is boring, though. We could shoot zombies, have a few beers." Reaching up, he took hold of Gordon's hand and held it tightly. "It'll be fun, I promise."

Relenting, Gordon let the smile finally take over and lift his features. "Fine. _One_ drink, no zombies, then we get you to bed, and we'll talk tomorrow. But first, you call your butler back and let him know you're okay."

*****


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter, sadly, lacks a proper copy editor; however, I shall try to valiantly press on without such things. Hunter was good enough to give it a late-night once-over for me to find the errors caused by typing while watching Jack Nicholson as the Joker.

~April 17~

_Killer hangover! Totally forgot I have a thing today. Meet me there and we'll talk. T. Wayne Med. Cent. 7:00._  
 _Free food after!_  
 _-W._

*****

By a quarter-to-eight, the newly constructed Thomas Wayne Medical Center was filled with members of Gotham's Medical Association, numerous executives from Wayne's various companies, and even some of the city's top officials. The only person not in attendance was the man of honor, himself. A bit of badge-flashing, however, had won Gordon and his officers a few minutes of time with the CEO Wayne Enterprises.

"I'm sorry, Commissioner. I wish I could be more helpful, but Mr Wayne isn't here and hasn't checked in with anyone." Lucius Fox divided his attention between the three police officers and the notecards he had hastily prepared. "Mr Wayne was supposed to be here over an hour ago to help prepare for tonight's ceremony, and I'm not surprised he hasn't shown up yet. I've had to give a number of speeches in his place. When the banquet tables are opened, I'm sure he'll turn up."

Bullock snorted loudly, but Gordon gestured to silence him. "It's very important for us to speak with him. You see, we're working under something of a time crunch, and Wayne himself asked us to meet him here thirty minutes ago. I don't mind waiting, but I would appreciate it if you would arrange for a few people to discreetly keep an eye out for him and direct him our way when he arrives."

A knowing smile pulled at Fox's features, and he gave a patient nod. "I'll let my assistant know to arrange things for you, and then I have to go say a few words to the press. In the meantime, feel free to mingle, enjoy the champagne, and the moment Mr Wayne is here, you'll know. If you'll excuse me."

"I don't know about 'mingling', but free champagne sounds like this might be a worthwhile trip after all." Bullock's smile quickly turned into a grimace as Montoya elbowed him in the side. "What? I'm serious. The sorta people actually interested in being at a hospital dedication thing ain't the sorta people I wanna be associating with. And they ain't gonna wanna associate with me. So why shouldn't we pass the time over there by the bar?"

"You could _pretend_ to have a little class," Montoya replied in disgust. "Or at least a little dignity."

"All right, children." Gordon interposed himself between the two before they could start a scene. "It _might_ just be a coincidence that everyone who has been killed has a tie to one of Wayne's companies, 'cause he owns half of Gotham. If it's not, the mayor would be cross with us for having loitered around the concession stand rather than doing our jobs. Now, I'll leave it to you: do you want to go mingle, or do you want to keep guard at the door for suspicious activity?"

"You know what, Boss? Mingling sounds great." Bullock pointed over one shoulder as he started backing away. "I'm gonna go mingle in the direction of the guy with the little snack trays."

Once Bullock was gone, Montoya turned to the Commissioner and asked, "What did I do wrong to deserve him?"

"He's a good detective. Really." Gordon paused to watch Bullock hurry after one of the circulating wait staff. "And honestly, I was sort of hoping you'd rub off on him a little."

Pointing an accusing finger at him, Montoya stated sharply, "I am rubbing _nothing_ of his," before turning to join the others milling about the large atrium of the newly built Thomas Wayne Medical Center.

"Now _I_ want a drink," Gordon muttered to himself, moving to find a vantage point of his own.

From there, the evening seemed to drag on endlessly. As expected, Wayne didn't show up to accept the award being presented to him, and Fox stood in front of the cameras to say a few remarks about his friend, the late Thomas Wayne. When the CEO had finished, a representative from the AMA came to the podium to make another speech, thanking Wayne for his dedication to improving Gotham. Wayne was still nowhere to be seen by the time she had finished and another man took her place at the podium.

It was only after the speeches had been concluded and the guests were milling about the refreshment tables that Gordon laid eyes on the company's elusive owner. "I almost didn't expect you to show," Gordon stated as Wayne ambled his way over to him. "What took you so long to get to your own party?"

"I'm sorry to say that I got double-booked with another engagement, every bit as boring as this one, but I managed to sneak away early to get here." The smile he wore was a cross between a socialite cover page and a tight smile of barely disguised distain. "Anyway, I don't really like talking in front of lots of people. I'm quite shy, you know."

"Actually, I've heard that." He could understand why someone would want to skip out on such an event; he would certainly be hearing about it later from Montoya and Bullock when they got back to the station. "Well, at least you made it eventually. Do you have time to talk now, or do you need to circulate and work the room a little?"

Wayne's carefree expression turned down into a clear frown. "Lucius will probably be mad at me if I don't make nice to some of our financial backers for a little while. Do you mind being my excuse to get out of here early? A few minutes to walk around and smile for the cameras, then we can go wherever you want. I promise to make it up to you."

There was still an uneasiness gnawing at Gordon. The man in the black mask had said that "he" would suffer from Gordon's death. At the time, Batman had seemed like the most likely target, but the more he thought on it, the more he felt that Wayne was somehow connected. "I suppose we could wait a little bit longer for you. This place _is_ pretty impressive."

With a shrug, Wayne replied, "It's not that great a thing for me to part with my money. The doctors willing to run a free clinic are the people who deserve the credit."

The commissioner softened at the other man's words. "I think that you may be just a little bit better than you give yourself credit for." It was surprising to him how quickly his statement turned around Wayne's entire expression, so he added, "Your father would be proud of the things you're doing for the city he loved."

Wayne tried to maintain his easy-going stance, but he was very clearly touched by the idea that his father would be proud of him. Gordon couldn't help wondering why the man insisted on putting on airs and acting like a spoiled frat boy. Bruce Wayne truly was an intriguing figure, and he never failed to make Gordon smile.

Their moment together was interrupted as Wayne's presence was finally noticed. A flux of people broke off one or a few at a time to drift by and say hello, pulling away the billionaire's attention. The man's light, cheerful expression easily slid into an even brighter smile and an overly friendly tone as he greeted each person in turn. The transformation was incredibly obvious, now that Gordon knew what to look for, and he was surprised that no one else had even noticed. 'Fake' was the only thing that Gordon could think of to describe the change. The man shaking hands with representatives was definitely the same man who had asked him if he should go to the hospital after crashing his Lamborghini, not the person Gordon had been getting to know over the last several months.

The room had become so wrapped up in the sudden appearance of Gotham's flighty Prince that no one noticed the entrance of three men in masks until the first shot had been fired. The hundred or so mingling guests alternately ducked, screamed, and hid behind whatever or whomever they could. The nearest guests were caught by two of the men and used as shields. "Lucius Fox! We're here for Fox – the rest of you, on the floor!" 

Gordon was still only a few feet away from Wayne when the first shot was fired, and he began creeping his way to his friend's side. "You're a popular guy, Wayne."

Privately, Wayne couldn't help wondering why criminals kept interrupted his events: first Ra's, then the Joker, and now some punks in twisted, monster masks. "Totally overrated," he whispered back softly, cursing when Fox stood and picked his way through the crowd. Unlike the incident at his penthouse, he couldn't just slip out the back and change into his work suit. It was still neatly packed away at home, and there were too many witnesses with cameras to think that he could get away with anything unnoticed.

Fox raised his hands in a non-threatening manner. "I'm Lucius Fox. I'm right here," he stated in a soothing tone. "If you have a problem, it's okay. You don't need to involve these people. We can talk."

It was Gordon's turn to swear as two of the three guns snapped instantly to train on their new target, though none of the hostages was released. "I don't have my piece, but there are two armed officers in the crowd," he whispered to Wayne, trying not to be obvious about it. I can see them working their way around to block off their exit. Don't worry abou—Wayne!" 

Complicating the situation for the commissioner even further, Wayne suddenly bounded to his feet. Gordon made a grab for him but wasn't able to pull him back in time before Wayne stepped away and called out to the gunmen. "Hey!" 

All three guns suddenly swiveled to point at Wayne as he took another step towards them, arms spread out and up in a gesture of surrender. Very slowly, he inched his way towards Fox, intent on interposing himself between the party-crashers and his friend. "Sorry, we didn't get a proper introduction: Bruce Wayne, Wayne Enterprises. Nice to meet you, gentlemen."

One of the gunmen returned his aim to Fox to keep him from moving, but the other two seemed interested in what Wayne had to say. That gave Wayne a surge of hope. A professional assassin wouldn't have hesitated. He would have simply taken out his mark, which meant that this had to be either a personal attack or a group of amateurs. Wayne hoped for the former, as the latter could be incredibly dangerous owing to their unpredictability. A person with a grudge could be bartered with. 

"Lucius is right, gentlemen," Wayne stated calmly, still moving forward slowly in an effort to get between the gunmen and his friend. "If you have a problem, this isn't the place to deal with it. You don't want to involve all these nice people. Why don't we talk?"

Two of the gunmen exchanged a word briefly, uncertain what to make of this new element to what they had clearly intended to be an in-and-out operation. 

" _I_ can get you whatever it is you're after. Lucius won't be able to help you like I can." Wayne could practically hear Gordon seething at how stupid he was being, but he didn't have a lot of options. Besides, it was distracting them from noticing Gordon's officers moving into position. "We can talk outside, away from all these people. They don't need to be involved. It's fine. Everything is fine. We can go outside, just us, and talk. You're clearly in charge here. Whatever you want."

Their decision made, one of the gunmen finally spoke. "Sorry, Wayne. We're not here to talk to you. He has to die."

Even before he had finished speaking, Wayne has begun moving to shove Fox out of the line of fire. After that, everything happened too quickly for him to be sure of what was going on. There was the sound of a shot being squeezed off, then white light obscured his vision momentarily, and he felt his legs refusing to work properly under him. 

Gordon let out a cry as Wayne dropped like a ragdoll. Without waiting for a signal, Montoya and Bullock both opened return fire. Keeping low, Gordon shoved his way through the screaming patrons and forced his way to Wayne's side. Fox was pale and looked horrified as he tried to cover Wayne's body with his own. Even with the other man obscuring his view, the blood seeping out onto the floor was evidence enough that Wayne had been shot. Sinking to his knees, Gordon gave Fox's shoulder a push to signal that he needed him to move so that he could check for a pulse.

Not only did Wayne appear to be breathing still, but he also had a strong pulse. Heaving a sigh of relief, Gordon looked to make sure that his men had the situation in hand, which they did. Even though the shooters had been neutralized, none of the patrons was in control. Dozens were storming for the doors while the media were hovering around them like vultures. Shoving a camera out of his face, Gordon yelled, "I need a doctor!" 

"Mr Wayne?" Fox's voice pulled his attention back around. Wayne was starting to stir. "Mr Wayne? Bruce, can you hear me?"

*****

More shots rang out around him along with more screaming, though both sounds were muffled by what felt like layers of cotton wrapped around his head. Hands were on his body. That wasn't good. Something was being said to him, and he couldn't process what it was. That wasn't good, either. Wayne tried to close his eyes so that he could think, only to find that they were already shut. Drawing in a shaky breath, Wayne forced himself to remain calm and analyze his condition. His feet moved when it was requested of them, his hands twitched when he tried to clench them, and he could turn his head to the side. Being able to move was a good sign. However, when he tried to turn his head back to its original position, that's when the pain began. Slowly at first, then building to an intensity that was more than sufficient to let him know that he was alive still.

Wayne's face suddenly pinched in pain. "Ow, wow, that's... Ow." He kept his eyes squeezed shut but managed to roll over from his side to fall over onto his back, revealing a long slash grazing one temple. While not nearly as serious as it could have been, the wound looked deep and was bleeding heavily. Cracking one eye open, a flood of white light assaulted him again, and he settled for keeping them shut for now. "That really hurt. What happened?"

Gordon felt a wave of relief rush over him at seeing his friend stir. "You decided to step in front of a gun, then cracked your head on the floor. I'm not surprised that it hurts like hell." When Wayne tried weakly to sit up, Gordon pushed him back down. Turning to the crowd, he yelled out again, "Dammit, this is a hospital! One of you has to be a doctor!"

Fox removed his handkerchief to press it against Wayne's temple to slow the bleeding. "That was incredibly foolish of you," he said in a tone that was meant to chastise, though it mostly just shook with worry. 

"Sorry, but I like having you in one piece. Who would run everything for me if they shot you? Ow! Hey, not so hard!"

"My mistake," Fox stated, not so apologetically, though he did loosen his hold on Wayne's head.

After giving a grunt of disbelief, Wayne brushed his hand against Gordon's, drawing the other man's attention back down to him. "I'm in trouble?" he asked in a weak voice.

"Oh yeah. _Big_ time. You'll hear about this more when you're back on your feet." He almost yelled an obscenity to the crowd of onlookers, but fortunately, a woman was hurrying towards them with a medical bag and a pair of orderlies was behind her with a gurney. "But you have to admit that there's a certain sort of irony in getting to be the first patient in your own clinic, right?"

Wayne offered him a lopsided grin of apology, but any other comments on the matter were put on hold as the doctor began fussing over him. Once she was satisfied with his vitals and response rate, the orderlies hefted him onto the gurney to get him away from the rubberneckers and into a private room where he could be treated. Bullock had "volunteered" a pair of security guards to help him secure the scene while Montoya called in the shooting. The three downed gunmen weren't going anywhere, and the guest list would help them keep track of any witnesses who might have fled the scene already, but forensics was going to weep at the amount of contamination from so many people trampling through their evidence.

*****

Less than an hour later, Gordon found himself running through the halls of Mercy Hospital. It wasn't often that he found himself in pursuit of his own gunshot victim, but Wayne hadn't slowed down long enough for him to find out what was happening. At the new Medical Center, his friend had put up a considerable fuss as the doctor had attempted to treat him, and in return, she had given the commissioner nearly as much trouble about remaining at Wayne's side through the examination in case the gunmen had friends nearby. Then, after receiving a text message, Wayne had physically forced himself out from under the doctor's needle, three stitches before she had finished.

Fortunately, the man wasn't difficult to find. A flashy, silver sports car tore away from the Thomas Wayne Medical Center at a speed that was certain to attract a number of flashing lights. Leaving Montoya to crowd control, Gordon all but shoved an irate Bullock into his own car, turned on the siren, and followed Wayne as best he could. Secretly, he had always enjoyed certain aspects of high-speed pursuits. Under normal circumstances, he never got to test the mettle of his vehicle, though it certainly couldn't match the horsepower of an Italian sports car. However, Wayne must have seen them tailing his car, as he flashed his brake lights at them and slowed down just enough for Gordon to follow as a police escort of sorts, though he had no idea where they were going, at least, not until Wayne left the highway at the exit leading to Mercy Hospital's emergency room. 

Why Wayne would bolt from one hospital to another was a mystery that wasn't solved until Gordon finally caught up with him outside one of the intensive care rooms. The name "Alfred Pennyworth" was on the paper card by the door, which answered some of Gordon's questions while raising several new ones. The family's butler was lying in the narrow hospital bed, dressed in a sea-foam green gown that would have surely offended the man's sensibilities, had he been conscious. A nasal cannula ran from an oxygen tank attached to the side of the bed up to his nose, and an IV stand held several bags that dripped into a needle in the man's hand. 

Gordon simply stood there, staring at the two men, as Wayne strode forward and grabbed the clipboard from its hanger at the foot of the bed. With a determined set to his mouth, he went about comparing the notes on the chart to the vitals displayed on the monitors hooked up to his guardian. Gordon thought that the numbers looked a little low, but nothing seemed too bad. None of the equipment was bleeping frantically for attention, and all the display colors were green instead of red. 

Wayne must have agreed, because he finally allowed himself to sink into a nearby chair like a deflating balloon. Pulling his seat up closer to the edge of the bed, Wayne reached out to take one cool hand between his own and brought it up to rest his forehead against it.

The motion was enough to get a low, groggy noise from the man before his eyes fluttered open. Relief radiated from Wayne's face as he smiled down at his long-time friend. The patient, on the other hand, frowned and reached his hand out towards the angry gash running along Wayne's head, coming just short of actually touching it. "Polo?"

Wayne laughed, his voice hitching as he did so. "I wasn't even playing this time, but I'm fine. It looks worse than it is, because I sort of rushed over here in a hurry and didn't have time to finish cleaning up. I promise, you can scold me about it later, all you want. Just lie still for now and rest." He reached out to smooth back Alfred's hair before returning his hold to one of the man's hands. "I know I've been telling you to take a day off now and then, but there are easier ways to go about it."

Although it was obvious that he had opinions on the matter, Alfred only sighed and kept them to himself. A smile spread across Alfred's face as he closed his eyes. Talking was too great an effort at the moment, and he wanted to be able to give his young charge an earful later.

While Wayne sat there, Gordon took the opportunity to inspect the man's case notes as well. GSW to the chest, brought in about an hour before the event at the hospital had begun, seemed to be doing well. It was altogether too much of a coincidence that there would be an attack on Fox at the same time there was a second shooting connected to Wayne.

Putting a hand on his friend's shoulder, Gordon leaned over to whisper, "You should let him get some rest and have one of the doctors here finish stitching you up. Then we need to talk, because I believe that you have _seriously_ managed to piss someone off."

"Impossible." Wayne's tone was one of mock disbelief, though he did stand to follow Gordon out. Leaning over, he whispered softly to the man who had been his guardian for the last twenty years. When Alfred gave a sluggish nod in return, Wayne pressed a gentle kiss to his temple, then stood to follow Gordon out.

Putting an arm around his friend, Gordon began with a few simple questions to help keep Wayne's mind from the frail-looking man he clearly didn't want to leave behind. "Is there anyone you can think of that might have a reason for trying to hurt either Mr Fox or Mr Pennyworth, or who might want to get at you by hurting them?"

"I don't have any idea!" Wayne let himself sink in against Gordon's side and be led away from the room towards the nearest nurses' station. "I mean, I'm such a likeable guy -- who would want to hurt me?"

"I was hoping you might be able to tell me that." He gave Wayne's waist a little squeeze and made a few suggestions. "Have you gotten any threats from protesters? Animal rights activists? Mob bosses sending conveniently traceable death threats for having made unspeakably large donations to the police department?"

That made Wayne laugh a little. "I'm afraid that I haven't heard about anything so convenient. Nothing _inconvenient_ , either. I honestly have no idea." 

"Can you think of anyone who might have a grudge against Mr Pennyworth or Mr Fox?"

"I'm sure William Earle was positively livid when I fired him and replaced him with Lucius, but I don't think that Earle has the balls to try anything more than white collar crime. Besides, that was months ago. If he were going to try to get back at me or Lucius, I expect that he would have done it by now." Wayne pressed the back of his hand to his forehead and frowned when fresh blood came away. "Alfred has been with the Waynes for over forty years. He may have made a few enemies as an officer in the British army but that was a lifetime ago." 

Once they were near enough, Gordon waved one of the nurses over to take a look at his friend's injury. Rather than letting the woman fuss over him, Wayne tried to step away despite Gordon's hold on him. "Look, how about we just slap a band-aid on this and call it good? I really am fine."

"Sir, this really should be cleaned and taken care of." 

"All right, an alcohol wipe and a couple of butterfly closures will do just fine." 

Gordon started to protest, but he caught site of Bullock down the hall waving at him. "Wayne, you play nicely with the lady and let her take care of you. I'm going to go check in with my unit, and I'll be right back." With that, he left Wayne in the capable hands of a deeply frowning woman with a first aid kit.

"What's happened?" he asked in a hushed voice as he approached the detective. 

Bullock's face was tightly pinched, and he shook his head to clear the cobwebs. "We just received a 911 call from Wayne Manor. There was a break-in there as well."

Gordon's eyes widened. "Wait, what? I thought that Mr Pennyworth had been shot at the estate."

"No, he was over at my penthouse." Wayne batted off the nurse's efforts in order to step closer to the two men. What happened at the house? Was anyone hurt?"

After getting a nod of consent from the commissioner, Bullock said, "I only got the message third-hand from Montoya over the radio. She's on her way over here now, though. Word is, a couple of people were shot, at least one is confirmed dead. The other was being taken to Northside Hospital. That's all I know."

"Well, find out! Get on the phone, call someone!" 

"We will, but first, we need to get you somewhere safe." Gordon put a hand on his shoulder again to try to calm him down. "Three shootings in one night, all connected to you, means that we need to get you somewhere safe until we can get a better lead on who's behind this."

"No. No, you need to put all your resources into finding out who's behind this. I can take care of myself; you don't need to waste your time watching out for me. I'm more than capable of not being found when I don't want people knowing where I am." Wayne took a step back away from the two officers. Not only was it a waste of manpower; Batman couldn't begin looking around as long as he was stuck with Gordon's officers.

Patience running thin, Bullock rolled his eyes dramatically and stated, "Look, kid, this ain't exactly a request. People are dead, and you're connected to it all. That means we need to get you somewhere safe where we can _question_ you about what's happening. Idiot. We need to find out who's behind this, and it's important that we start moving on this ASAP!"

Being stuck at the GPD was going to make it hard for Batman to investigate the attacks, but an average citizen would be scared out of his mind by this point. Even someone as carefree and careless as Bruce Wayne would be concerned for his safety, and it was aggravatingly difficult to think of an excuse for refusing a police escort. With a sigh of resignation, he allowed Gordon to hustle him to an elevator and press the key for the ground floor.

Trying to soothe his friend, Gordon gave his arm another squeeze. "I'm sorry for the inconvenience, Wayne, but we need you to stay with us, at least for tonight. I'll have officers sent around to guard Mr Pennyworth and Mr Fox as well. You have my word, they'll be kept safe."

Bullock held up his cell phone. "Got a text from Montoya. She's just pulling up out back to pick up the two of you. I'll take your car back to the office for ya."

"You know, it's pretty late. You could just drop me back off at my penthouse. I can lay low there... get a clean shirt." Wayne brushed at the drying blood staining his clothes. 

"You really don't give up, do ya?" 

Gordon motioned for the detective to back down. "Forensics is going to have both locations locked down in order to look around for evidence. You need to stay with us for now, but we'll do our best to get you back home tomorrow."

"What if I told you that I could get you video footage of the shooters?"

That made both men pause in confusion. "Come again?"

"After that painted freak waltzed into my place without a moment's pause, I upgraded the security both at the apartment and the mansion. They both have dual systems: if you cut the power or try to mess with the feed from the outside, the cameras keep rolling from the internal controls."

"Great." Bullock started dialing as soon as Wayne finished speaking. "I'll let the boys know they need to get a copy of those tapes. You can review them at HQ and let us know all about what you see."

"Detective, I would appreciate it if you would stay here with Mr Pennyworth until the other officers can get here. Montoya can get us back to the station."

Bullock frowned but didn't put up a fuss at the order. Instead, he quietly held the door open for the other two to exit and hit the button to take him back up to their gunshot victim's room. Not seeing any way out of his current predicament, Wayne wilted and silently trudged out of the elevator alongside the commissioner. As promised, a cop car was already waiting for them out the back door when they exited the hospital. Montoya was behind the wheel, watching them expectantly. 

Even so, Wayne scanned the alley, searching for whatever was putting Gordon on edge. From around the corner of the alley, a sedan with the lights off was approaching, but a shining glint from within caught his eye. Counting his steps, Wayne waited until the sedan began moving, then he conveniently stumbled on an uneven segment of the inclined walkway. 

In a split second, Gordon heard the car approaching at the same time the Wayne began to fall. Instinctively, he jumped on top of Wayne and pushed him all the way to the ground just before a spray of bullets peppered the back of the patrol car and the brick wall behind where the two men had just been standing. When the car began to speed away, Wayne tried to get free of Gordon's grasp to catch the plate number, but he was being held firmly. As eager as he was to get his own investigation underway, bucking off the police commissioner in order to chase after the shooter would have raised far too many questions. 

Montoya opened the passenger-side door while still keeping herself flat along the seats. "You two all right?"

Gordon nodded, and he looked to Bruce for confirmation. The other man nodded shakily, and his suit didn't appear to have any fresh bloodstains on it. It didn't escape Gordon's notice that Wayne had dropped before he had heard the car coming, but now was neither the time nor place to begin dissecting the oddity that was Bruce Wayne. He all but shoved Wayne into the back of the patrol car and climbed in after him. 

"Step on it, Detective." His attention was suddenly divided as Wayne pulled out his cell phone. "Wayne, I wouldn't tell anyone where you are or where you're going." 

"I'll be brief, but there are a lot of people who work for me. I need to make sure they're safe." Wayne drew in several slow breaths as the phone rang so that he was able to speak into the receiver with the voice of his socialite persona. "Hey, Mrs Jennings. -- Yeah, I just heard. -- No, I've already been to see Alfred, and he'll be fine. Right now, it's the rest of you that I'm worried about. -- No, I'm _fine_. Now, listen, this is important. If anyone doesn't have a place to go, set them up somewhere and make sure the officers on the scene know about it and where. It would probably be safest to stay in groups, just for a night or two. And make sure everything gets billed straight to me. -- Uh huh. Yes, ma'am, I promise to stay safe as well. Look, I'm really sorry, but I need to go. I'm going to need you to take care of everyone until Alfred's back on his feet. Can you do that for me? -- That's my girl! -- All right, I'll call you again tomorrow. Bye bye."

Wayne looked completely drained by the time he hung up the phone and turned it off. "The security systems for the mansion and the penthouse are linked. Lucius set them up for me so that the material would store onto a private server, network, card, thing -- I don't know. Your protection detail can have him go get a copy of the footage for you."

*****

The trip from the front door of Police Headquarters to Gordon's office was an arduous task. No less than three officers and one detective came by to take a picture with Wayne on their cell phones. Wayne circulated among the cops as effortlessly as if they were the high-class, ritzy socialites he was accustomed to mingling with. He spoke to everyone at the station casually and encouragingly, and Gordon wasn't about to step in as watching the man work was a very curious thing. Gordon couldn't help being impressed with Wayne's way with people. He also couldn't help noticing how the man's carefree attitude had an infectious quality, and if Wayne could improve morale, then he wasn't about to complain.

When they finally made it into his office with Wayne in tow, the man was starting to look exhausted and pale. Wayne hadn't exactly been released from the hospital so much as he had chosen to leave, and it wouldn't be good to have to rush him back there. Once inside, Gordon offered Wayne a seat before settling himself into his own chair behind his desk, which was currently buried under sliding piles of folders and case studies. 

"All right," he said gently. "Let's start this over again from the beginning. Have you been able to think of anyone who might want to target either you or Wayne Enterprises?"

"We've already been over this, Gordon. No one has made any threats against me that I'm aware of."

"Bruce, I'm your friend, but from tonight alone, I've got three gunshot victims, one dead body, three downed shooters, two perps on the loose, a ventilated squad car, and a -- a fucking partridge in a pear tree! I really need your help, so do _not_ give me the run around on this. Please."

The smile fell from Wayne's face completely. "What is it that you want from me?"

"I was hoping that you and I might have a slightly more open and frank discussion here, now that we're alone." Opening one of the case files, Gordon began to pull out photos. It was a common police trick, to use gruesome pictures from crime scenes to make witnesses talk. Any guilt he might have felt, however, was tempered by the fact that Wayne didn't respond at all to the images being spread out before him. "Do any of them look familiar?"

Wayne's expression was blank for a moment before leaning back in his chair and slinging one arm over the back of it casually. "I'm afraid not. None of them look familiar at all."

"All right. We didn't see any connection between them at first, either. How about these?" Gordon begun putting out a second spread of photographs. "Each victim had a close relative who works for you."

"All of them?" Wayne sat up a little straighter, looking closely at the new photos. Batman had looked over each image so many times that he could probably have drawn them from memory. These new pictures, however, were a surprise. "No... Wait, this one... I think, maybe, I think I've seen her before. She's-- Is she with the new education program?"

"She is."

"I don't know her, but I'm sure I've seen her face before. These others, though, no, I can't say I've ever seen them."

"Has anyone vocalized any complaints to you about the massive expansion of Wayne Enterprises into all these different sectors? You've been working on projects in the Narrows, in Crime Alley; someone must have voices displeasure in your buying up chunks of Gotham as if it were a Monopoly board."

"Of course people have complained about what I've been doing. Most of it has come in the boardroom, demanding to know how soup kitchens and building schools is going to make money, and I don't give a damn about that. The people of Gotham deserve a chance to live out from under the thumb of thugs and mobsters. If I can do that, then that leaves you with only the usual suspects. Well, them and the loons who dress up as clowns and giant bats with serious issues of mental instability."

Gordon couldn't help frowning at the implication that Batman was anything like the Joker. He also frowned because he couldn't tell if the comment had been said in seriousness, or if it had been said with the intention of throwing him off his game. "I appreciate your efforts at affecting change, but it seems to me that your philanthropic views have made you a serious enemy. Or several."

"One of the most important lessons of my life, I learned from Carmine Falcone." Gordon looked startled by this, and he leaned back in his chair with rapt interest as Wayne looked up at the ceiling, thinking back on that day so many years ago. "He told me that the rich could never understand what life in Gotham is like. We have money, but our heads are buried in the sand. Fear is what buys real power, not money. These mob families think that they can bully people into rolling over and giving in to their fears. They destroy people's lives by taking away what they care about, threatening them, push, push, push. What they don't understand, Gordon, what these mobsters don't get is that when you push someone too far, when you take away everything that they care about, then there is no more fear. Without fear, they have no more power. It's a terrible Catch-22, because then all you have left is billions of dollars with which to make _their_ lives miserable. I have no intention of giving in to them."

"You may have been safer funneling your money into a giant telescope for NASA." His voice was stern, but internally, he was very proud and pleased that at least one citizen was willing to stand up and fill the void.

Wayne raised an eyebrow curiously. "You think that NASA is a good idea? An aeronautics program might not be a bad way to go. I'll bring it up to my advisors for next fiscal year. Wayne Satellites. Kind of catchy."

"You can send me the royalties for the idea if you make another fortune." Refusing to let himself get derailed, he brought them back to the topic at hand. "Now. Excluding every major gangster in town who's going to take a hit in profits from what you're doing, can you think of anyone more personally associated with you that might want you dead? Companies you've recently rejected, executives fired, have you received any personal threats, seen any suspicious activity?"

"We temporarily stalled a deal with Lau Security Investments of Hong Kong a few months ago, but he hasn't been returning our calls. Mr Fox went to meet with him in person to cancel the deal. If he'd been feeling murderous at the time, I don't think that Fox would have made it back to the good ol' U.S. of A. Besides that, I haven't had any deals fall through in the last six months. Under one umbrella company or another, I've bought out maybe a dozen other businesses around Gotham, but all of them were well paid for them. Everyone always walked away from the negotiation table happy. There weren't any layoffs at the companies. In fact, in at least eight of them, I've done extra hiring – not firing."

Three more photos, these of mug shots, were laid out on the table. "Have you ever met the shooters before?"

Shaking his head, Wayne said, "Never."

"None of them have a criminal history, no known connection to the mob, not even priors in traffic."

"Well, that makes a certain amount of sense. It was a very unprofessional hit; they couldn't even shoot straight."

"Which you shouldn't complain about."

"Absolutely no complaints!" Wayne's face finally turned up a little again. "You think the criminal mastermind behind this is coercing innocent people into doing their dirty work?" 

Gordon wondered if Wayne was picturing B-movie stereotype as his "criminal mastermind" behind this. "It's too soon to be able to ask our shooters yet. Two of the three didn't make it out of surgery. The third is still in critical. If he makes it through, then maybe we'll get a better idea about what's going on."

"It sounds like you have a good handle on things here. If there's anything else I can do to help, just let me know." That said, Wayne stood to leave.

"Don't get up; we're not done yet."

"More questions?" Wayne turned sad eyes on his friend, hoping to get out of whatever it was that Gordon wanted.

"Both your estate and apartment have been compromised by these people. I need for you to stay in police custody until it's safer for you to be out."

"I already told you: I'm good at not being found when I don't want to be," he said in reply.

Gordon rose as well in order to look him in the eye. Being intimidating was difficult when the other person had several inches on you, though. "And what happens to all your good, philanthropic works if this person finds you? A lot of people are depending on you now." That got Wayne's attention. The man's unconcerned smile wavered in the face of this logic. "Gotham has lost too much hope already. It can't afford to lose any more."

"Your officers would be better spent in working the case, not following me around. I'll be fine."

Waiving off the concern, Gordon said, "I'll do it myself. Information on your whereabouts will be restricted to only me, Stephens, Bullock, and Montoya." 

Wayne hesitated, considering his options. It would be a good opportunity for Gordon to test those closest to him for leaks. But then Batman would have a nearly impossible time investigating. "I want to be kept in the loop every step of the way." He ignored the glower being leveled on him by Gordon. "I don't have to accept police custody. If I'm going to be hidden away for who knows how long, that's what I want. I'm not asking for the hidden secrets of the Gotham Police Department, just to be informed on what's happening in the case that involves my not getting shot again."

"You have a deal."

*****


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this ages ago, then couldn't find where I'd put the file. I decided to move on without it, since it wasn't necessary to the plot. It would have gone after chapter 15, where Gordon was speaking to Stephens over poker about what he and Bruce Wayne get up to in their free time. I decided to go ahead and post it now, out of order, as a moment of calm for our heroes before all the shit hits the fan. Keep in mind that this should have been a couple months before the last chapter. I'm not going to go into my usual level of detail with this bit in order to get it done and posted, so that I can finish the next "real" chapter, which is almost done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have made one sizable continuity change: the vast majority of my extras are taken from the comics, prominently _Gotham Central_. One of their comics won several awards for the story-arc on Montoya being outted as a lesbian in the office and the difficulties surrounding that in addition to working in a predominantly male-driven environment, leading to her becoming a superheroine, the Question. Which is awesome, but a little bit deeper into a sociopolitical quagmire than I wish to go at this time, so I have changed it to fit my own artistic purposes. Just an FYI for anyone familiar with the story canon.

~February 24~

Harvey Bullock had taken a personal day.

As far as Detective Montoya was concerned, that simple fact was enough to put a spring in her step as she walked into the crowded corner of Police Headquarters that the Major Crimes Unit officers were borrowing. Renovations to the MCU building were nearly finished, there had been a freshly brewed pot of coffee in the break room, and her partner had taken the day off: all of which were reasons for her to smile. Even the sight of her captain waving her over to where the commissioner was standing couldn't bring down her mood. 

"Good evening, Captain, Commish." Montoya turned a bright smile on the pair once she had picked her way through the sea of desks and officers to join them. "Got something new for me?" 

Sawyer couldn't help a grin of her own at the detective's enthusiasm. "You're certainly in a good mood today."

"What's not to be happy about? Next week, we get our own space back, and today, it's just a little bit less crowded in here than usual." She held up her mug bearing the GCPD logo on the side. "And the sludge-water actually tastes like coffee."

Looking up from the duty roster he'd been reviewing, Gordon turned to her to ask, "Have you been getting along all right with Detective Bullock? I know Harvey can be a bit abrasive, but you look absolutely delighted that he's out today." 

"We work together well enough. He just has a lot of annoying habits."

"Any that we need to have a talk about?" 

"No, nothing like that. It's just little stuff, like him assuming that because he has seniority, that means he gets to pick what we get for lunch every single day, or that because I'm new, I don't know how procedure works without being told twice." She paused a moment, then added, "But mostly it's the way that he always smells like sauerkraut, no matter what he eats."

Her remark made the other two laugh. Relieved that there was nothing more serious going on, Gordon said, "You know, I hadn't realized it before, but I think you're right. When Harvey gets back in, I'll have a talk with him about laying off the bratwurst for the good of office morale. The rest of it, I'll trust the two of you to work out on your own."

" _Dios te bendiga!_ " Montoya held up her coffee mug to him in a mock salute.

" _De nada._ Now, for tonight, you'll be with Detective Allen. He wanted some help making sure that all our ducks are in a row for the big move. Not terribly exciting, but absolutely necessary if we want to get a damn thing accomplished once we move out of here."

"Happy to help, sir. As long as there is coffee in this mug, there is no amount of paperwork that will keep me down."

"Three months on the job, and you're already starting to sound like a true member of the night shift." Gordon glanced past her shoulder as he noticed Cornwell and Stephens making their way over. "Speak of the devil-- Good evening, gentlemen. Thank you for deciding to finally grace us with your presence."

"Couldn't be helped, Boss." Cornwell spread his hands in a helpless gesture. "Someone let it slip that there was actual, real, non-imitation coffee in the break room. We had to try some for science."

"Like a health inspection," Stephens stated as innocently as he could while grinning shamelessly.

"Right, exactly. To make sure it was legit, for the good of the office."

Sawyer turned an accusatory stare at the commissioner. "This is your fault, you know, for bringing in whole beans instead of the usual grocery-brand crap. And I'm done for the night, so they're your problem now."

Leaning in closer to the others, Gordon whispered, "Rumor has it that there might be a delivery of fresh fried doughnuts coming later in the evening, too."

"See, Boss? _This_ is why you have our undying loyalty." Turning to Montoya, Cornwell added, "And as long as I have you here, Detective, I never heard back from you about Saturday night. Are the two of you coming?"

"I-- I don't know, sir, it's really not our kind of thing." 

Gordon's brow furrowed as he started to make a mental headcount. "How many people are coming to this thing, anyway?"

Sawyer thought for a moment. "Stephens and Cornwell are both bringing their wives, my sister Laura is coming with me, and Stacy will be there with her boyfriend. I'm pretty sure that Sarge said that he was bringing his partner with him."

"Williams in forensics was _supposed_ to be coming with his girl," Cornwell added, "but she dumped him last week. He's been kinda down lately, so we thought it would be nice to get him out into the scene again. But I have a feeling he's going to be more interested in the bar than the lanes."

"Oh yeah, that's us," said Stephens. "A really happenin' bunch. All the ladies will be flocking to us, and he can have his pick."

Cornwell snorted. "Something like that. What about you, Boss? The M.R.S. agree to come out and play with us?"

"She decided to regretfully decline."

Stephens raised an eyebrow. "For some reason, I don't think she used those words."

"You are a perceptive man." It should have been a red flag that he cared so little about Barbara's refusal to join them, but Gordon insisted to himself that he didn't have time to dwell on things that couldn't be changed.

As another officer walked by, Sawyer reached out and snagged him. "Del Arrazzio, you busy this weekend?"

Wide-eyed, he protested, "I really can't pick up another shift, Captain. I've got a pretty full load as it is."

"Saturday night, office bowling," Sawyer replied. "The Commish is short a partner. Barbara didn't want to come." 

"Actually..." All eyes turned expectantly toward Gordon. "I might have already invited someone else, but you should come anyway. It would be nice for us all to get out of this damned office and actually _do_ something. Bring your girlfriend -- Maria, isn't it?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Cornwell exclaimed. "No deflecting the important topic with mundane talk of office togetherness! Who'd you ask? In my experience, when the wife says 'no' like that, she's saying no for the both of you." 

Stephens smirked. "Ain't it obvious? The wife has a headache, has to stay at home and wash her hair, so you bring the mistress bowling with the guys instead."

"I bet she's hot," Cornwell said with a cheeky grin. "You playa."

Gordon rolled his eyes. "Actually, I asked a _friend_."

"Shut it, Cornwell," Sawyer ordered. "If he doesn't want to admit to anything just yet, that's his business... Not like we won't all find out who she is in a day or two anyway." She held a firm grip on Del Arrazzio's sleeve as he tried to slip away unnoticed.

"Ha, ha." Gordon's voice dripped sarcasm. "I didn't invite a woman, anyway, so you can shut up now." 

"That's okay, Boss," Cornwell reassured him. "It doesn't matter if you're into guys. The GCPD is an equal opportunity employer, after all. Right, Montoya?"

Smiling sweetly, she replied, " _Sólo estás celoso porque no consigues mirar._ "

Cornwell opened his mouth to comment again, but Stephens slapped him upside the back of the head just moments before Sawyer reached out to do the same.

"It's Wayne," Gordon said, hoping to put an end to the speculation.

Stephens looked surprised. "Wayne?"

" _Bruce_ Wayne?" Montoya asked, sounding downright incredulous.

Cornwell explained. "The mayor told the Boss to keep an eye on him coupl'a months ago, though I didn't think he meant in perpetuity." 

"He comes by once a week or so," Sawyer added. "Just drops in and causes productivity to go to hell."

"It's not like that," Gordon insisted, turning to Montoya to correct their unkind impressions. "He meets me here, and we go out to grab some lunch together. It's no big deal."

She still sounded shocked. "Bruce Wayne, of the Gotham Waynes, comes here on a regular basis? How have I not heard about this?!"

"He started coming around while you were overseas, so you missed all the chatter while it was fresh gossip," Stephens said, smirking a little. "It's old news now, and Wayne doesn't tend to drop by on the night shift. That's when he's busy getting his picture in the paper."

Gordon sighed. As much as he liked the members of his team, they could be a real pain when they got in a mood. "Wayne's a decent guy, and it seems like he doesn't have a lot of friends. I thought it would be nice for him to get out and have a little fun with some real people instead of trustees and corporate yes-men." 

"Hopefully it won't be too big a dose of reality for him to handle," said Sawyer, plainly assuming that it would. "So, Del Arrazzio, you in?"

"I'll ask Maria," he replied. "It does sound like a fabulous train wreck waiting to happen, if Wayne's going to be there."

"Good attitude, Detective." Stephens slapped him on the back.

"Thank you, sir."

Cornwell raised his hand. "Question: Do billionaires actually bowl in smoky alleys with beer and pizza?"

Shrugging, Gordon said, "No idea. He didn't voice any complaints when I asked him; he just agreed pretty eagerly. I took that to mean that maybe they do?"

"Or have absolutely no idea what they're getting into?"

"Like I said, a fabulous train wreck." Del Arrazzio sounded almost excited at the prospect. He'd seen the illusive billionaire wandering through a few times, and like everyone else, he was curious about the man.

"I'll make sure my shift get the memo to treat the new guy with kid gloves," Sawyer promised. Pointing at Cornwell, she added, "And you make sure to pass the word around that no one's to be fleecing him at the pool tables."

"Kill joy."

"Just treat him like a person," Gordon said, pulling on his jacket. "Does anyone need a ride there?"

Cornwell shook his head. "Sarge is our shift's DD, and your sister's biting the bullet for the first shifters, right Captain?"

"Yup, I think we're good to go," Sawyer answered.

"All right, then I'm going to get some dinner while the rest of you settle in for the night. Captain, could I have a word with you before you go home?"

The others all said their farewells as Gordon and Sawyer headed for the Commissioner's office, but once the door had closed behind them, Cornwell exclaimed, "This is going to be great!"

"Be nice to Jim's pet puppy," Stephens admonished him.

"Oh, come on, you've met the guy," Cornwell replied in a disbelieving tone. "Wayne's a nice enough guy, like the Boss said, but his bulb isn't exactly running at a hundred Watts, if ya know what I mean. It's going to be just as wild a time as Del Arrazzio said."

Montoya frowned at him, fairly certain that the lieutenant didn't have much room to talk. "Try to think of it more like we're going to be ambassadors of the middle class. We should try to make a good impression instead of reinforcing all the stereotypes."

"Just wait until you meet him, then you'll understand what we mean." Cornwell's grin somehow managed to be boyish and sharklike at the same time.

*****

In his office, Gordon didn't waste any time in coming to the point. "Is it going to be a problem that I asked Wayne to come with us? You don't seem to like him a whole lot. Is there something I should know about?"

"No, not really." The look he gave her in return said that sort of answer wasn't going to be sufficient. "It's nothing specific that he's done. Yes, the fact that he flirts with anything with a pulse irritates me a little, but that's not it. There's just something _wrong_ about him. I don't know what it is, but he's such a fake. There's something he's hiding, something... Something I can't figure, and _that_ pisses me off."

The commissioner nodded in understanding. The façade that Wayne insisted on putting up so often grated on his nerves as well, in part because of how juvenile he acted and in part because he couldn't figure out why Wayne did it. "It's not 'something' he'd hiding so much as 'everything'. Almost all of what he shows the world is fake. The man is up to his eyeballs in trust issues, that's for sure. But he's a nice guy, really. Just... weird."

"Weird, for sure, but..."

"But?"

"It's probably nothing. I don't know him personally, and it's not my place to talk shit about your friend."

"If his being here is really bothering you, I can ask him to keep his visits to Cornwell's shift. Like Stephens said, he's up at all sorts of crazy hours anyway." She nodded along with him, but his suggestion didn't remove the frown from her face. "You aren't going to offend me by being honest. What is it with you and him?"

"The vibe I get from him isn't this funny face he shows the world. It's darker. Dangerous."

"Bruce Wayne? Dangerous?" Gordon had to hold back a laugh, because she was completely serious about what she had said. "He's like a great, big kid."

"I know it sounds ridiculous, but I trust my gut. Just be careful around him. After all, you've already gotten yourself killed in the line of duty once. Try not to do it a second time, okay?"

*****

Batman's mouth turned down into a frown. The control panel on the Tumbler was flashing at him insistently, blinking "incoming call". That wasn't one of the features that Lucius mentioned to him when they had gone over the specs of the vehicle together, but he took a chance and pressed the screen. Immediately, the address book for Bruce Wayne's phone scolled across the screen before stopping on the entry for "Jim Gordon". 

A moment later, the line connected, and Batman found it difficult to answer in the proper voice. "Hey, Gordon, good to hear from you! How's it going? Sorry about the noise, but you caught me in the car."

_"Busy night?"_

"No, pretty slow. I was just headed home."

_"Doesn't sound like a bad idea. Things are pretty slow around here, too."_

"I'd offer to come get you and paint the town, as it were, but I already promised Alfred that I was on my way home to meet up with my bed. He can be really frightening when he doesn't get his way."

_"Then I won't keep you. I just wanted to let you know the game is on for this Saturday, eight o'clock. I let everyone know you were going to be there, but they'll probably still give you grief, as I work with a bunch of hooligans."_

"Hey, are we going to get to use those inflatable bumpers in the gutters?"

There was a moment of silence over the line before Gordon asked, _"We're screwed, aren't we?"_

"What do you mean?" 

_"Have you ever played the game before?"_

"I have an academic understanding of how the mechanics work." It was more difficult to keep up his socialite persona over the phone while in his work suit than he'd thought it would be. As he spoke, he had to fight back the urge to reach up and remove the mask until the call was over. "I've seen people play it on TV, at least."

_"We're so screwed. My high score so far has been a very respectable one-ten, but Gerry's wife is a shark. I have no idea how she puts a spin on the ball for those seven-ten splits. And you're asking for bumpers."_

"Hey, it's just a game, right?"

_"To a degree. The lowest scoring pair gets stuck with the beer tab."_

"Right." In a fatalistic tone, he stated, "I'll bring my checkbook with me."

_"Don't be thinking that way! You'll psych yourself out before we even get started. The game is pretty simple: It should take you four steps to get to the foul line. First one, you hold the ball out in front of you, then swing back on the next, then start to bring it forward, and release it on the fourth. Beyond that, just keep your back straight, follow through after you release, and don't turn your wrist as you swing. If you do, you'll put a funny spin on the ball."_

"One, two, three, four; back straight; follow through; don't turn the wrist. Sounds easy enough."

 _"And if it turns out that bowling isn't your thing, the place has also got a couple of pool tables and an arcade room."_ Gordon chuckled before adding, _"Some of the guys think they're hot shit at pool, so Maggie warned them not to try to take all your money. I have a feeling that they're not going to listen and that they might trying hitting you up for a few friendly wagers. Just try to remember that they live on a cop's salary and don't shame them too badly."_

"I promise not to clean out anyone who doesn't deserve it. Just one more question." Batman was grinning from ear to ear despite himself. "What do you _wear_ to go bowling? There isn't a uniform or anything, like in baseball, right?"

_"Oh, God, we're so screwed..."_

*****


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to wait to post this and the next bit together after the weekend, but I really wanted a break from studying! Enjoy the fruits of my procrastination. :) This chapter contains my head nod to _The Dark Knight Rises_. In the months leading up to the film's release, I had been considering how it would change things in my story, what things could I play upon, what would I need to manipulate or ignore... Then I watched it, and I was sad. On the bright side, it means that I don't have to worry about it affecting any of my storyline, because I'm just going to pretend like the whole thing never happened. The high point for me was that Gordon got shot in the butt! (Maybe I could be convinced that he's grabbing his upper thigh... but it's just not as funny that way. Seriously, YouTube it, pop the DVD it, pause the footage: shot in the butt.)

~April 17~

_"And what happens to all your good, philanthropic works if this person finds you? A lot of people are depending on you now." That got Wayne's attention. The man's unconcerned smile wavered in the face of this logic. "Gotham has lost too much hope already. It can't afford to lose any more."_

_"Your officers would be better spent in working the case, not following me around. I'll be fine."_

_Waiving off the concern, Gordon said, "I'll do it myself. Information on your whereabouts will be restricted to only me, Stephens, Bullock, and Montoya."_

_Wayne hesitated, considering his options. It would be a good opportunity for Gordon to test those closest to him for leaks. But then Batman would have a nearly impossible time investigating. "I want to be kept in the loop every step of the way." He ignored the glower being leveled on him by Gordon. "I don't have to accept police custody. If I'm going to be hidden away for who knows how long, that's what I want. I'm not asking for the hidden secrets of the Gotham Police Department, just to be informed on what's happening in the case that involves my not getting shot again."_

_"You have a deal."_  


*****

Less than an hour later, Stephens rapped loudly on the commissioner's door before letting himself in. Without any preamble, he announced, "I've made a decision." Pointing to where Wayne sat, flipping through a book of mugshots, Stephens stated, "I've decided that we're hiring him. It's amazing how fast things have been getting done since he was dragged in here tonight. I like it. I think we should keep the ol' grindstone moving at this pace more often." 

"I would make a lousy policeman," Wayne replied. Disappointed that the detective had nothing more substantial to say, he returned his attention to the assortment of criminals he'd been asked to look through. It was a useless effort, but it allowed him to stay in Gordon's office and listen in on what was happening throughout the station. 

"Who said anything about giving you a badge?" Stephens asked in return before seating himself in front of Gordon's desk. He stretched out his legs, making himself comfortable, then added, "I think some sort of 'office mascot' position could be created for him. You know, something minimum wage, but that would still allow him to lend his particular brand of influence over the powers that be."

Gordon had to forcibly repress the urge to roll his eyes at the other man's particular brand of humor. "Do you have something for me, or are you just trying to kill some time?"

"I have something for you." A smug grin was plastered across his face as he reached into his pocket to withdraw a jewel case holding an unmarked disc. "I just wanted to impress upon you the fact that within half an hour of that man making a phone call, I have this lovely piece of evidence in my hand. How often does that happen around here? Never, that's how often. I say we keep him."

Ignoring his remark, Gordon asked, "Is that the surveillance footage?"

"Yup. Apparently, the CEO of Wayne Enterprises didn't appreciate people taking potshots at him. Brought it over here himself after Wayne called him. Talk about service, huh?" Turning in his chair so that he could address Wayne, Stephens added, "Mr Fox wanted you to know that he's doing all right, and that he and his police escort are going to the hospital to stay with Mr Pennyworth since you can't be there." 

Wayne nodded, grateful for the news, but personal matters would have to wait. What had supposedly been one man now looked like it was a much larger operation, and Batman had been temporarily taken out of the equation. Since his alter ego couldn't be of any help, perhaps it wouldn't be too much of a stretch for Bruce Wayne to be of use. "Do you mind if I look through that as well? I might be able to tell you if they say anything or take anything meaningful." 

The commissioner's face turned down in a frown, and he was silent for a few moments before shaking it off. "I guess we can have a preview before the boys get their hands on it for analysis. After all, it's your own security footage. It's not like you can't download your own copy if you wanted. It isn't exactly the proper procedure for the chain of evidence, but..." Opening the disc tray on his computer, Gordon inserted the disc and clicked on the drive to access the files. "I don't know how graphic things are going to get. Are you going to be okay?"

When Wayne nodded in the affirmative, he opened the first of the two files on the disc, and footage from the Wayne estate started playing. The screen was subdivided between several cameras, all rolling simultaneous shots of different areas. Household staff moved freely about the mansion, doing their duties as if it were any other day. Gordon checked his notes quickly for the time the shooting was reported to have happened, then he forwarded the footage to the proper time stamp. Just like what had happened to them earlier that evening at the Thomas Wayne Medical Center, two men in grotesquely twisted black masks just suddenly appeared. No one seemed to have even noticed them arriving until shots were fired. There was no exchange of words, no command to get on the ground in order to rob the place. Two people were shot before anyone noticed what was happening. The third victim was shot in an effort to protect another member of the staff from harm. Just as quickly and quietly as they had come, the gunmen left as the first witnesses can running into the room to investigate what was going on. 

The footage from the penthouse began in much the same way. Two men in masks came out of the elevator, but this time, Alfred was the only person in the building. Wayne's jaw clenched as he watched his friend fall to the ground, blood pooling beneath him. It was all too familiar a thing, and for a moment, he nearly lost his focus in memories from twenty years ago. Then something different happened, which immediately caught Wayne's attention. This time, the shooters didn't immediately leave. Instead, they rummaged through the contents of the room, smashing some things while taking others. 

Gordon closed out the program once the perpetrators had left, and he reached out his foot under the desk to nudge Wayne's with his own. "You still all right?"

"I'm fine," was all Wayne said in reply. His eyes were still fixed on the blank monitor, replaying the footage in his mind. 

"See anything useful?" 

"Maybe. A couple of things were odd." He drew in a breath and released it slowly before turning to the other two men to explain. "First off, the whole thing at the apartment was very amateur. They clearly didn't know what in that room was of value and what wasn't. From what I could see, the things they took weren't worth nearly as much as some of the things they left behind."

Stephens shrugged his shoulders, uncertain how helpful that information really was. "Could just be that things of lesser value are easier to hock. Expensive painting and one-of-a-kind trinkets tend to send up red flags, whereas a nice stereo could've just fallen off a truck somewhere. Or maybe they weren't trying to make a buck so much as trying to make sure they got your attention?"

"Well, they have it." 

The low growl in Wayne's voice caused the small frown on Gordon's face to deepen. It brought back memories of concerns that Sawyer had once voiced about his friend, and Gordon didn't like the implication of it at all. Either way, he would have to dwell on it another time. Right now, there were more pressing matters, like getting a lead of any sort on their shooters. "I agree with Gerry: there might actually be something significant to what was taken besides value. After forensics is done going over the apartment for evidence, you can have someone look around and make a thorough list of the possessions taken or damaged."

Now that he'd seen the footage himself, Wayne was even more eager to get his own investigation underway, and he deeply regretted having allowed Gordon to talk him into staying put. There were a few other things that he wanted to say, but he needed to pick his words carefully in order to avoid arousing suspicion. "This is just a possibility, but it could be that the guy you've been looking for isn't actually a guy."

Both men turn to look at him in surprise. Stephens shifted his gaze briefly to the commissioner, who gave a small nod for him to proceed. "It's possible," Stephens acknowledged, "but statistically, serial killers are men. Of course, statistically, they also don't like to operate in large groups, and yet we have three separate crime scenes in one night with between three and seven different shooters."

"Four."

Wayne's reply took them by surprise yet again, causing Stephens to ask, "Come again?"

"Three of the men from the videos were the same guys from the hospital. Only one of the shooters at the mansion is different."

Stephens made a mental note of it but didn't bothering asking how Wayne figured that. Their detectives and imaging experts would review the footage a hundred times and come to their own conclusions, though that would be the first thing he asked them to confirm. "Why would you think a lady is behind all of this? A lot of the previous victims were killed in pretty messy ways, which tends to point to a male killer, and the builds of the people in the surveillance tapes were pretty big, again suggesting men. So is there something else you'd like to add, or are you just throwin' out ideas?" 

"It's... a little of both? You're right in that all four of those shooters were men, but that doesn't mean that there isn't a woman at the top, pulling the strings." Wayne let out a frustrated growl and scrubbed at his face, trying to collect his thoughts. Working with other people was difficult when he was so used to doing all the legwork alone. By the time he usually caught up with Gordon, Batman had worked through all his thought processes completely. It was hard to make sense verbally while still mulling over everything he'd seen. "Okay, let me start over. This is just an idea I'm putting out there, not because of the people or the manner of execution. It's those masks. The shooters at the mansion, the penthouse, and the hospital were all wearing the same ones. Now, maybe they picked those particular masks because they look frightening, but they do actually have a meaning."

At that, Stephens leaned closer, a little more inclined to listen. "Which is?"

"They're _hannya_ masks. They're worn in Japanese theater to represent the tortured souls of women. Their own obsession and jealousy corrupts them, turning them into these twisted demons." He reached over to open the file Gordon had on his desk, flipped to a photo of one of them from evidence, and pulled it out for them to look at. "I've never heard of them being black like this in traditional theater. The color of the mask changes the interpretation of the character in the play: white for aristocrats, bright red for lower class women, and dark red for real demons trying to disguise themselves as humans. On the other hand, it's just as likely that whoever is behind this knows jack about culture and only got them because he thought they looked cool."

"Great, so it either means something, or it doesn't." Despite his flippancy, Stephens still pulled out a notepad from his jacket pocket to jot down the possible lead. "If nothing else, purchasing fancy Japanese masks might be traceable. Those things we've got down in evidence ain't plastic Halloween costumes, so maybe we'll get a bite from there. As for the ladies, you've got quite a number of ex-girlfriends who aren't your biggest fans. You piss off any of 'em bad enough for them to pull this kinda shit?"

The detective's tone had lightened, and Wayne could tell that a joke was being made at his expense to lighten the mood between them. Playing along, he rolled his eyes dramatically. "More than a few of them have been pretty crazy, but none of the girls I've dated have been what you might call 'criminal mastermind' material, if you know what I mean."

Gordon ejected the disc and secured it back in the jewel case, which he handed to Stephens. "Go get the team started on this. Wayne's going to be with us for a while, so he'll be here if they have any questions."

"All right, but I'm telling you, if it turns out that we get an actual, solid lead on some obsessed, vindictive bitch with a fetish for demon masks, we're hiring this guy on the spot." Despite his joking, Stevens gave Wayne's shoulder a supportive squeeze as he left.

The wry expression Wayne wore while sat there made Gordon ask, "Think of something else?"

"I was just wondering what your outsourced rooftop consultant thinks of all of this and what he's up to in order to stop it." He was also wondering how he could sneak away to actually work on the problem instead of just sitting there. Batman had no trouble coming and going as he pleased, but it might cause a bit of a stir if anyone saw Bruce Wayne jump out a window.

"You know, I've been curious about that." Gordon leaned back in his chair, glad to be able to distract his friend with some idle conversation. "What is it that makes you dislike him?"

"Who, the Bat? Don't most people?"

"No. There's a pretty clear divide in how people feel. If they aren't entirely ambivalent, people either love him or are out for his blood. You, on the other hand, have a fairly tepid dislike of him, and that's unusual."

Wayne's features softened as a genuine grin of amusement spread across his face. "Fair enough. I guess I'd call my opinion more of an academic disapproval. I'll ignore the fact that out there, right now, some guy is so messed up that he dresses up like a giant bat and jumps around rooftops at night fighting crime. That aside, no one elected him, no one appointed him. I can appreciate the decreased crime rates and clean streets as much as the next guy, but Gotham needs heroes and symbols of good. Ones with that come with names and faces and respect in the light of day, not skulking around in the shadows. People like you."

"I'm no hero." Gordon turned away, fusing with his case file instead of meeting Wayne's gaze. "I'm just doing what has to get done."

"You are to me." When Gordon kept fidgeting with the papers rather than responding, he reached out and clasped the man's hand. It might not be a welcome admission, but Wayne felt that it was something he needed to say. "A hero can be anyone, even a man doing something as simple and reassuring as putting a coat around a young boy's shoulders to let him know the world hasn't ended."

For several moments, Gordon could only sit there and stare at the hand covering his, almost afraid of what he would see if he looked up. Whether or not Wayne had feelings for him beyond platonic friendship, not to mention how he felt about it himself, was a matter to be considered when there weren't so many dead bodies piling up. Trying to play off his embarrassment, Gordon replied, "I think you cracked your head a little too hard on that floor when you fell."

"Probably," Wayne conceded, willing to back off. "So, what's our next move from here? After all, I'm practically a member of the police department now."

" _You_ , Junior Detective, will go back to your corner and keep looking through mug shots. I'm going to go check on the task force and make sure everyone here is doing all right. After that, we'll get you somewhere safe for the night."

Wayne let out a heavy sigh of boredom, but he obediently stood and moved back to collect the thick book of photos. Instead of seating himself in his chair, he draped himself across Gordon's couch. "This is, quite possibly, the dullest thing I've ever done."

"Then you've lived a blessed life; that, or you've managed to sleep through all your board meetings instead of paying attention during them."

"Hey, now that sounds like a good idea!" He opened the book again, but rather than looking through it, Wayne placed it over his face to block out the fluorescent lights above him. Almost immediately, his eyes drooped shut against his will. Exhaustion was trying to make itself known, and he was spending too much energy trying to fight it off. Wayne decided that it wasn't entirely a bad idea to give in for a few minutes and let his system reboot. His eyes jerked open, however, when a warm weight settled over him. The lights had been turned off, and Gordon had removed his trench coat from its hook on the wall to wrap around him. Peeking out from under the edge of the book, he could make out Gordon's face, smiling down at him. 

"Don't let me rest too long?"

"Not too long. Whenever I get tonight's paperwork finished, we'll go."

His eyes drooped shut again. He'd rest a little, then check in on Alfred, then somehow begin his own investigation away from Gordon. In a half-asleep state, he could hear Gordon moving softly through the room back to his desk, picking up the phone, and dialing. _Barbara? Sorry to wake you... Yes, I'm at the office. ... I know. Something's come up, and I won't be home until -- actually, I don't know how long. I just didn't want you to worry. ... Uh-huh. Give my love to the kids. I'll call you later once I know more. ... Probably a day or two. ... I love you, too._

*****


	25. Chapter 25

~April 18~

When his eyes opened again, it took a moment to realize that the office he's fallen asleep in wasn't one of his own at Wayne Enterprises. The fluorescent lights overhead had been turned off, but the soft pink rays of morning light were coming in through the window of Gordon's office. Just as slowly, he realized that the reason he felt somewhat rested was because the commissioner had let him sleep far longer than he'd intended. The softly ticking clock on the wall confirmed his suspicion, relaying that it was already twenty past six. 

Seeing that, Wayne shot up so fast that he nearly jostled himself off the couch. Too much time had already been wasted, but Gordon's coat had wrapped itself around him awkwardly while he'd slept and refused to cooperate with his efforts to rise, which became increasingly inconvenient. Besides simply being embarrassed to be overtaken by apparel, he needed to check on Lucius and Alfred, there was still evidence to be gone over, and the need to find a restroom was beginning to make itself known.

A chuckle at his expense made Wayne look up, and he saw Gordon still at his desk. The commissioner's hair was disheveled and the brown glasses he wore sat askew on his nose. One hand was holding a coffee mug up to press against his temple, the other had a slight twitch that suggested he'd had far too much caffeine and far too little sleep – if any – but a smile was turning up the edges of his mouth for having watched Wayne flail.

"Sleep well?" he asked, pleased at seeing his friend held captive by his trench coat.

"Too well," was Wayne's reply. He finally managed to extract himself from the coat and tentatively stood, mentally evaluating himself for any lingering ill effects from the previous night's shootings. It was unusual getting up when he was used to heading home at the end of a long night. Fortunately, that could connect him to Batman required either an approved thumbprint or an access code, so he wasn't concerned about the officers having searched his property. Even so, it was impossible to say what clues the cops had missed or destroyed as they looked around the scenes. After giving a lengthy stretch, he added, "I'll make sure to be more specific next time instead of trusting you to stop working."

"Barbara always says that I'm a workaholic, too. But you needed the rest, so I'm not really all that sorry."

"Yeah, but how are you supposed to protect me if you're exhausted?" 

"Never fear. When someone tries to kill the favored son of the city, attention is paid to protecting him. And before you ask, Mr Fox and Mr Pennyworth both still have guards with them, and they'll continue to be watched for the time being." Gordon tilted his head back to drain the last of the coffee from his mug then gestured at Wayne with it. "Want some?"

"No, that's okay. I'm thinking maybe a run to work out the kinks from sleeping on the couch." He gave a few more tentative stretches to test his muscles for any signs of injury or protest. "Then have some protein, and I'll be ready to face the day."

"I'm going to have to nix the run, but you can help yourself to the gym in the basement. I can have one of the guys show you around down there." It would be nice to have a small diversion to buy him a little time without Wayne hovering around. There was one last thing he needed to do that morning before they could leave. The mayor had insisted on a press conference, which was never fun, especially not after a shooting. However, things had been made even worse by the fact that word was already spread that Bruce Wayne had been shot. Some stations were even questioning if he'd been killed in the attack. It felt like Garcia was sending him out to face circling sharks without even a flimsy lead, let alone a solid one.

*****

Gordon stood on the steps of the police department headquarters in front of a number of television cameras as blinking flashbulbs went off all around him. For some reason, word of Bruce Wayne being shot at his own award ceremony was big news to everyone from magazines to national networks. Gesturing for everyone to settle down, he waited until the throng of reporters had quieted enough that he wouldn't need to shout.

"As you are all aware, a shooting took place at the newly constructed Thomas Wayne Medical Center last night. Since then, rumors and speculation have circulated regarding a considerable amount of video footage taken that evening. First, let me say that Mr Lucius Fox, CEO of Wayne Enterprises, and Mr Bruce Wayne are both alive and well. While Mr Wayne did suffer minimal injuries during the brief altercation, they were in no way life-threatening. Doctors released him from care shortly after the incident. Despite being the target of the shooting, Mr Fox sustained no injuries. The gunmen were apprehended at the scene, and at this time, the shooting appears to have been gang-related."

The low murmur of the crowd began to turn into loudly shouted questions, and Gordon had to wait to continue until he could get them quieted once again. "As I said, it appears to be gang-related, and I can assure you that the police are giving this matter our full attention. A protection detail has been placed on both men, simply as a precaution. The shooters were dressed in dark clothing without any tattoos or any specific identifying articles of clothing, except for one. They were all wearing very stylized theater masks painted entirely in black." He held up a sketch-artist's rendition of the hannya masks. "The police are asking anyone with information about this group to please call the tip hotline."

He knew that something had begun to go horribly wrong when the members of the press suddenly stood up and began snapping rapid-fire pictures. Although he had suspicions as to what he would find, he already didn't like it. The commissioner turned to find Wayne striding purposefully down the steps towards the podium. Behind him, an incredibly anxious and apologetic-looking desk sergeant was trying to keep Wayne back, but the man wouldn't be stopped. Putting a hand over the microphone, Gordon whispered as sternly as he could, "What do you think you're doing here? You're not supposed to be making any public appearances until we've got a better lead on this guy."

"I am _not_ going to hide from this character and let him hurt anyone else trying to get to me." 

The press was clamoring for a statement, and he turned to face them with a smile and a wave, uncaring whether or not Gordon removed his hand from the mic. As they were being recorded by easily a dozen news agencies, the commissioner decided to step away as gracefully as possible and allowed Wayne a little latitude in having his say. For the moment. Once the press was content that they would, in fact, be getting a statement, they quieted down again so that Wayne could speak.

"Last night, the Medical Center was not the only place attacked by whoever is responsible for these shootings. My family's estate and my home here in the City were both broken into as well. Three members of my staff were shot, and I cannot apologize enough to the families of those who were injured by the _coward_ in charge of all of this. Some nameless person, skulking around in the shadows, wearing a mask, and having others do your work for you. Whoever you are, you must be a very small man to send uninvolved strangers to shoot at old men and defenseless women who have nothing to do with my company or my public practices. 

Looking around here at the members of the press, there are a lot of faces I recognize. We're pretty familiar with each other. Wouldn't you agree that it's pretty pathetic that somewhere out there in Gotham is a person not even brave enough to stand up to someone like _me_?" That got a small wave of chuckles from both the press and the officers standing by. "I need all of you to do me a favor. I want you to tell my spineless friend out there that I have absolutely no intention of letting these acts of violence stop me from doing everything in my power to make Gotham a better place for us, for our families, and for our children. And if this masked man in charge of this slipshod organization ever works up the courage, he can come see _me_ about it."

After a speech like that, Gordon knew it would be pointless to try to wrangle the press back into order. They positively exploded as Wayne stepped back from the podium. Those who weren't already on their phones calling in the story were shouting questions at the two men. Although a part of him wanted to pat Wayne on the back and congratulate him for having the biggest pair he'd ever seen, another part wanted to try to physically knock some sense back into the man. Leaning in close, he whispered softly, "You do realize that you just challenged a serial killer in a dick-waggling contest, right?"

"Let him come," was all Wayne said before walking off with a glower that Gordon had only seen equaled by the Batman.

*****

In the hours following what Gordon felt was, without a doubt, the worst press release of all time, the phone in his office simply refused to stop ringing. All plans for being able to leave the station had been canceled in wake of Wayne's rather inflammatory remarks, which had had the unfortunate effect of causing his friend to become progressively more and more irritating as the hours passed. Wayne was clearly a man used to being to come and go as he pleased, and Gordon's insistence that he had to stay put was making him antsy to the point that Gordon had called the third shift officers in early so that he could hand over his babysitting detail to Stephens and have some peace. The quiet only lasted a few hours before there was an insistent knock at his door.

"Come in." Gordon cradled the telephone receiver between his ear and shoulder to turn his attention to the lieutenant standing in his doorway. He'd been on hold for over fifteen minutes, and the break from garbled easy-listening music seemed welcome until he saw the angry expression darkening Cornwell's face. "There a problem, Dave?"

"Yes. You need to get him out of here." Cornwell stepped into the commissioner's office, forcing himself not to slam the door shut behind him as he entered. 

"I beg your pardon?"

Pointing emphatically at Gordon, Cornwell repeated, "You need to get him out. The killer might not get a chance to bump him off -- at this rate, I might do it myself."

"Oh, God, what's Wayne doing now?" He took his glasses off to rub tiredly at his eyes and sighed, but then a thought struck him. "Wait, why is he with you? I thought Stephens was watching him."

Cornwell moved closer, all but falling into one of the chairs across from the commissioner. He'd stayed late and come in early too many nights that week, working on this case, and from what he could see, the commissioner had completely given up on going home to sleep. It was no wonder they all had short fuses. "He was, for the first couple of hours. Then Stephens dumped him on Bullock, which lasted all of about twenty minutes. After he threatened to hogtie Wayne and stuff him in a closet until the case was solved, Montoya bought us a little peace and quiet by sending him down to forensics. The lab monkeys played with him for while, showing off their cool toys and stuff, but I'm fairly certain that my goldfish can pay attention longer than that man can."

While Gordon contemplated getting a leash for Wayne so that he'd stay put, the lieutenant's complaint also caused him to eye the man curiously. "So, basically, what you're saying is that the whole of the Major Crimes Unit cannot keep one man occupied?" 

"What I'm saying," Cornwell leaned forward, once again pointing an accusing finger at Gordon, "is that I firmly believe that while Wayne was in here with you last night, you must have _drugged_ him. I want whatever it was you gave him."

"I didn't drug him!" Gordon reached out and hit the mute button on his phone in case the other end of the line could still hear their conversation. More calmly, he said again, "I didn't drug him. Wayne sat over there, and I had him look through mug shots to see if anyone stood out. That's it."

"I don't believe you." Frowning, he eyed the commissioner suspiciously. "He wasn't in here, wandering around, _touching_ things, looking through things, asking a million questions, and generally being a pain in the ass? Don't get me wrong, the guy's a blast to hang out with _outside_ of work, but he's sidetracking everyone he comes across. Although it _is_ kind of interesting to watch him flirt with basically anyone with a pulse, you know, in a tragic train wreck sort of way. It's like watching old reruns of MASH, with Hawkeye trying to hook up with all the nurses."

"Dave, _my_ patience is running out."

"Fine, here it is: I know you're the boss and all, but either cut Wayne loose so the man can go home, get him somewhere else that's _not_ my bullpen, or I _will_ give him back to Bullock to take care of." 

Gordon hung his head and let out a heavy sigh. "Wayne is always a little ADD, but yeah, he's been worse than usual today. I think he's being troublesome on purpose so that we'll change our minds about police protection and let him go home without an escort, but that's not going to happen because I don't want to see Garcia's head spin in an _Exorcist_ impersonation." 

"No pea soup, got it."

Gordon motioned with the phone still pressed to his ear. "I'm almost done here. I spent most of my afternoon talking to the Feds. They want to come in and take things over. Arguing with them put me a little behind on getting a safe house to keep Wayne at tonight. Once I've got that hashed out, I'll get him out of your hair. Until then... have Montoya babysit him for a little bit longer until I'm through. She can take him around the block for some real food, or whatever she wants."

*****

Coming up behind Wayne, Montoya laced an arm through one of his and began to pull him away from the whiteboard where the timeline of the murders had been drawn out. "Come on," she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. "We're getting you some food."

"You can't fool me," Wayne replied. His tone was skeptical, but he didn't protest being dragged along behind her. "I've seen the stuff in your break room, and it can't actually be classified as 'food' of any sort. I know: they made me eat in there for lunch."

Montoya gave a terse nod of agreement. The stale bagels and watered-down coffee were certainly less than idea for anyone, let alone a billionaire probably used to eating obscenely fancy dishes she'd never even heard of. "That's why we're going down to the corner store."

"You're springing me from the big house?" Wayne seemed very excited by the prospect, more than he should been after only a day in police protection. Montoya got the feeling that no matter how much he was getting on the boss's nerves, Wayne had actually been holding himself back from what he really wanted to be doing. The man was clearly bored out of his mind.

"More like keeping you from getting killed by friendly fire." She leaned nearer and lowered her voice. "You're pissing off the lieutenant, and that's no good."

"What'd I do?" He turned to her with an innocent expression and a boyish grin that had been perfected to get him what he wanted. 

Rather than continuing to lead him out of the building, Montoya changed directions and pulled him into an unoccupied room so that they could talk privately. "Pro-tip: quit trying so hard. We're busting our butts trying to help you, and all you're doing is making yourself look incredibly obvious."

"Obvious?"

She leveled a hard stare at him that said she wasn't going to buy the innocent act. "It may be boring to be under police protection, but flirting with everyone in the building isn't going to win you any favors here. On top of that, it just makes you look suspicious -- and don't bother trying to deny it. Yeah, a couple of the guys think that you're just a scatter-brained, spoiled rich-boy, but pretty much everyone knows what you're pulling is just an attempt to hide in plain sight. That trick might work for the media, but it's not so smart to do in a room full of detectives." 

A moment of panic shot through him until Wayne realized that she wasn't talking about Batman at all. The detective was insinuating something completely different about him. "Let's say for a minute that I _was_ trying to hide something. Why would you tell me to do a better job at keeping it hidden?"

"Because it's actually painful to watch you coming in here week after week, following Gordon around like a puppy." Montoya put her hands on his shoulders and gave him a gentle shake until he raised his gaze to look at her directly. "You're a really nice guy, Wayne, and the Commish really seems to like you, too. So just -- tone it down. You don't have to be like this to get his attention."

"I'm not asking Gordon for anything."

The crooked smile she turned on him said that she was skeptical of his motives despite his protests. "Maybe, but you wouldn't mind if he offered, right?"

Wayne opened his mouth to deny it but found that he couldn't, although he found it curious that his interest in Gordon had somehow served as a cover to explain away that he really was hiding something. While a secret crush was much more likely than a secret double-life as a masked vigilante, it just happened that in his case, both were true. "I'm not holding my breath waiting for it."

"Good." Her face turned up in a wry smile. "The Commish could do a lot worse, but he's already married to his job in addition to his wife." 

"Ah." Wayne nodded his head slowly. "Was that a not-so subtle way of saying to back off?"

"No. But should his situation ever change, and you think it's something you'd want to try for in the future, you might want to be a little more mindful of what you're doing now. This act you put on to protect yourself isn't going to help you any."

He was silent for a moment as he though over what the detective said. "You're certainly a very liberal-minded individual." 

"You're in here once or twice a week. I've seen the difference in his mood after you've been in and when you don't come by at all. Stranger things have happened." Montoya hesitated, unsure if she wanted to offer him any other advice. Her person life wasn't something that she went out of her way to hide, but it also wasn't something that she advertised. "My girlfriend was married for two years before she realized that things just weren't going to work out between them for... 'logistical' reasons. Things change; keep that in mind." 

Wayne fell silent again before ducking his head with a sheepish grin. "So... everyone with MCU thinks I'm obvious?" 

"Pretty much. Except for Bullock -- he thinks you're just an idiot. But he's an ass who wasn't blessed with an ounce of social grace, so his opinion in non-police work doesn't mean a whole lot as far as I'm concerned." She felt some of the tension leave her stance, since Wayne seemed to understand what she'd told him. With luck, he'd be a lot easier to deal with until Gordon could get them to a safe place to stay for the night. "Listen, you're not going to be stuck here too much longer. The Commish is on the phone now, trying to hook us up with a place to put you for the night. It turns out, when you taunt serial killers, it puts your life in danger."

"Oh, is _that_ how it works? My mistake." He bumped the palm of his hand against his uninjured temple, as if to knock some sense in. "Listen, if there's no way to convince Gordon that I don't need to be watched around the clock, I've got an idea about where we can stay..."

*****

It had taken some work, but in the end, Montoya had helped him press his case to Gordon that his own penthouse was actually the safest place for him to be. Since he owned the entire building, he knew that no one else was there should anyone come after him during the night, and any property damage would be solely his own. Following a brief argument about safety and protocol, it had been decided that Detectives Bullock and Montoya would be stationed outside the building to watch for suspicious activity, while Gordon followed Wayne up into the penthouse. Fortunately, after too many hours on the clock, all it had taken was a cup of tea and a plush armchair, and the commissioner had fallen asleep, leaving Wayne free to slip out for some investigation of his own. He seriously doubted that anyone would miss him for a few hours, so long as he was back in the penthouse well before morning.

Running across the rooftops had never felt as good as it did after being cooped up in the MCU building for the last day. The weight of the Kevlar armor was reassuring and liberating as he spent a full half hour doing nothing but patrolling the streets of Gotham. There was so much he needed to do, but once he was finally able to get out as Batman, he needed to blow off some steam before he began his own research. While Batman patrolled the streets, looking for any sign of the masked gang that had targeted him out of nowhere, he couldn't help thinking about how Gordon was back there, in his home, sleeping in his living room. The universe was cruel and unfair, but there wasn't time to think about himself. There was a killer on the loose who didn't seem to care who got hurt along the way. He had told Alfred before that criminals were simple, which they typically were, but he could no more comprehend this man's motive than he could understand what had motivated the psychotic clown.

Eventually, Batman had to admit defeat for the night, and he returned to the penthouse so that Wayne would be in bed before Gordon got up to check on him. As he approached, however, he could see that the squad car was no longer parked out front. While it was possible that the detectives had been called away while he was out, there shouldn't have been lights on in the penthouse. If Gordon had woken to find him gone, then the commissioner would have surely tried to call him on his cell to yell at him for being irresponsible. If neither Bruce nor Batman had been called, then he assumed that he wouldn't find Gordon inside the building, either. Even so, he went in through the rooftop entrance and began searching the apartment for his friend.

Not bothering to change out of the armored suit, Batman tore through the penthouse, yelling for Gordon to answer him. All he found was a note on the coffee table:

_Mr Wayne, you talk of cowards, yet you're nowhere to be found when I come to see you. I have something of yours. If you're man enough, I'd be willing to exchange him for you. He's currently got a captive audience on the last stage Mommy and Daddy ever saw, but he only has until the curtain falls for you to show up. If you don't come, that stage will be the last thing he ever sees as well. However, if so much as one cop or even one pointed ear shows up with you, the show will be over for the commissioner and his sidekicks. _

_Your friend._

*****

It had been more than two decades since Wayne had stood in the alley behind the old Gotham Opera House. At some point over the years, the building had been condemned and a new location had been built uptown. Between age, disrepair, and vandalism, the structure looked like it could potentially come down at any time. A hole in the wall near the foundation was just large enough for him to slip through, and it prevented him from having to try to open the rusted-over exit door at the end of the alley. He knew why this place had been selected as a meeting place. Standing in the alley, he could still see the blood pooling on the ground beneath and around his parents. At one point in his life, he would have broken down crying; at another, all his feelings would have simply been hate; and both were easily manipulated emotional states. Now, only getting to Gordon mattered. He and the other officers needed to be gotten out before he would allow himself to have any sort of emotional response. It was likely to be much worse when it finally did come, but at least no one would be in harm's way then.

Moving softly through the shadows, he couldn't find a single thug or henchman. It was too much to hope that the mastermind had come alone. More than likely, he was walking into an elaborate trap, but it didn't matter. Three people had been taken hostage because of him, assuming that they hadn't been killed and dumped somewhere. As he approached the house, he could hear a recording of _Mefistofele_ playing. Closing his eyes, he drew in a deep breath; by the time he had finished releasing it, the slight tremor in his hand was gone, as was the brief stirring of terror at being swarmed by bats. It was all in his mind, and Gordon couldn't afford for him to mess up.

When he'd told Alfred that he didn't want to die protecting Gotham, he had meant it, and yet he felt closer to death here than he had in a long time. Without the suit, he was very much a soft, vulnerable target. Though, if he risked creeping through the shadows too much, he could easily be mistaken for Batman or a member of the GPD. Being front and center was the most certain way to bring the least amount of risk to the hostages. Even as he stood to push the doors' brass handles, a voice in his mind, sounding very much like Alfred's, kept repeating that this was a very bad idea.

Only the stage lights were on, illuminating Gordon's body hanging above it. His hands were tied behind his back, and a thick rope was wrapped around his torso to suspend him just high enough off the stage that his feet couldn't find purchase. The sound of the doors opening carried up to the front, causing Gordon to turn and look his way, squinting into the distance. Wayne gave a soft sigh of relief. Since he'd been an idiot about every other aspect of this rescue operation, there was no sense in wising up just yet. 

"Gordon, you all right?" His voice rang out loudly as he made his way down the aisle, trying to be mindful of traps. 

"Oh yeah, just ducky. Now get the hell out of here!"

"No, tell me that idiot did _not_ come here alone looking for us! You're supposed to call the _cops_ you nimrod!"

Wayne felt himself smiling in relief. Neither man sounded like they had been injured. "That sounds like Bullock, so can I assume that the lovely Detective Montoya is here as well?"

Her only response was to say, "The Commish is right, you need to get out of here, Mr Wayne."

Around them, the music faded to nearly nonexistence, and the clack of boot heels could be heard as their masked captor came out of the wings at last. "Now, why would he want to do that? He's come a long way down here to hear the end of this show. After all, he missed it the last time he was here. It would be rude to ask him to leave." He gave Gordon's shoulder a little push as he walked by, causing the commissioner to swing slightly. 

"You said that if I came, you'd let them go. I'm the one you're after, so why don't you release these people?"

"Would you think terribly of me if I said I lied?"

Never having been any good at hostage negotiations, Bullock swore colorfully regarding their captor's parentage. "Right now, you're just a serial killing whackjob. You do _not_ want to become a cop-killing serial whackjob."

Montoya silenced him from saying anything further by giving Bullock a swift kick to the shin. Their arms might have been bound to the seats, but their legs had been left free. 

"He's right," Wayne stated, walking forward slowly. "He might be insufferably rude, but Detective Bullock's right. You don't want to kill three cops."

"Technically, I only plan to kill two cops. She'll make a lovely hostage to get me out of here in case you didn't follow my instructions."

"There's no one else coming -- it's just me. I came alone, just like you wanted, so there's no reason to kill any of them. They're all tied up, so let's just leave them here. We'll go somewhere else; I'll be your hostage, and you can tell me whatever it is that you've been wanting to say to me."

"That would defeat half the purpose!" The man sounded utterly pleased with himself as he moved to stand behind Gordon. His natural height in addition to the heel of the boots he wore easily allowed him to press a knife to Gordon's throat without having to overreach himself. Gordon's eyes widened, and he tried to keep as still as he could, lest some movement cause him to swing into the sharp edge of the blade. "You see, I want you to watch this man bleed out all over the stage before I finally kill you, too."

"If you're just going to kill us all anyway, why would I stand here and let you do it?"

A gun appeared in the man's other hand, which he trained on Montoya. "Because I could change my mind about killing her as well."

Wayne stopped moving and put his hands up in a gesture of surrender. "You don't need to do that, but don't you think that we at least deserve to know why you're doing this before you kill us all?"

"You spin so many lies, Wayne, sometimes I can't help but wonder if you actually believe your own bullshit." The knife never left Gordon's throat as he paused long enough to push up the mask he wore. Watching Wayne's jaw drop in surprise was fun, but watching him squirm as the commissioner died would be even more enjoyable. Once the mask had fallen to the ground, he jammed the gun barrel into Gordon's back.

"Roman?! Wh-- What--" He started and failed to form an actual question. Seeing his friend standing there, sneering down at him while holding Gordon at knifepoint was too much. 

Leaning closer to speak directly into Gordon's ear, Roman asked, "Now, doesn't this feel familiar? Only this time, there aren't any pesky bats around to spoil our fun." 

Gordon might have replied, but the knife tip was biting into his skin and causing a thin trickle of blood to trail down his throat. Wayne took another step forward, his hands in the air, trying to placate his friend. "Stop! Roman, listen to me. I know you've been having a tough time lately, and for some reason, you're angry at me. That's fine -- take it out on _me_ , not him. Gordon's got nothing to do with you and me."

The man's grip on the blade tightened, causing Gordon to hiss in pain as the edge dug just a little deeper. "You haven't changed a bit, have you, Bruce? Always thinking that you can have your way; the spoiled little rich boy who had everything he ever wanted."

"I don't understand -- I thought we were friends. What did I ever do to you? How can I ever start to say I'm sorry if I don't know what I did?"

Roman's laughter was bitter, but it was also manic. Even Bullock knew well enough to keep quiet until they had a better idea who they were dealing with. " _Friends?_ Even as children, the only reason I was ever around you was because my parents _made_ me. They thought kissing up to the Waynes would give them more clout in Gotham. Why would I ever want to associate with a contemptuous brat like you? And now, you're even worse! You think you can buy up anything you want." Rather than the knife, this time, it was the gun barrel digging into his ribs that made Gordon inhale sharply. "I went to great lengths to arrange that little 'accident' for my parents so that I would inherit Janus. Then you just _stroll in_ and take it away from me!"

"You had your parents killed?" Wayne's head was spinning -- everything that was happening was too surreal, and he had to pause a moment to just look at Gordon, to remind himself what was at stake if he didn't stay focused. "Are you seriously saying that you've killed all these people because you were angry at me about a cosmetics company? It was going under because of you! I only stepped in to help because I care about you."

Roman gave another long laugh. "Help me? You've never helped anyone in your life! You've never done anything -- hell, you couldn't even kill Joe Chill on your own! Someone else had to murder him for you."

Wayne's jaw dropped for the second time. He'd never told anyone about what he'd almost done that day -- only Rachel, and he trusted her not to have repeated it.

"There are so many little pawns in your life, Bruce, so many inconsequential people. You didn't even notice when I took them out of the game, did you? I went after your knight next," he said, taking a moment to run the point of the knife along Gordon's cheek before resting it back against his carotid artery. "Pity, though, we were interrupted. That's all right, though. There are two of them on the board; two chances. I'll handle him and your portly, pungent friend over there in a moment. I have to say, though, I really was surprised when your rook and bishop escaped me. I didn't expect the old man to live. But I'm not at all surprised that there isn't a queen playing on your side. You're far too selfish and self-centered for any woman to be interested in anything more than your money."

Wayne has almost reached the edge of the stage by the time Roman had finished his speech. "Please, Roman -- I'm the one you want to hurt -- let him go."

"You know, I do like the idea of you hurting." He shifted the gun just enough to squeeze off one shot around Gordon, and Wayne dropped as the bullet tore through his leg. "Hm, you were right. That did feel pretty good. But it's not time for you to die. You aren't done suffering yet."

It would have been difficult enough with only Gordon there, but with Bullock and Montoya looking on in concern, what he was able to do without giving himself away was seriously limited. Even something as simple as getting back up again was probably more than the average person would do. Gritting his teeth, he used the nearest aisle seat to pull himself up so that he was at least kneeling.

Roman leaned forward again to speak to Gordon. "Never let it be said that I'm not a generous man. I'll let you decide: do you want to die the slow death and spare Bruce with a quick finish, or would you like to have the swift, clean kill?"

"Go to hell," was all Gordon got out before the gun was fired again.

Wayne and Bullock both cried out as their friend went limp, dangling from the rope unmoving. For her part, Montoya redoubled her efforts to loosen the ropes around her wrists. If Wayne could manage to keep that guy distracted so that she could keep working without being seen, then they just might be able to get out of there alive and get the Commish to a hospital. Unfortunately, the expression on Wayne's face wasn't one that spoke of a man with a game plan. It wasn't like she could even pantomime at him. 

For several more moments, Wayne just knelt there as if trying to will Gordon to start moving again. Roman let out a content sigh, which seemed to snap Wayne out of his daze. The look that replaced his initial disbelief actually made Montoya struggle even more against the ropes.

"I hope you realize that he was the only thing standing between you and me." Wayne's voice was completely flat as he spoke. It never even so much as wavered as he stood up and began walking towards the stage again.

"Now there's a familiar threat. It didn't work last time I heard it, either." Turning the gun on Wayne, he fired again. This time, however, Wayne twisted at the last moment and only got clipped in the shoulder. Regardless, it did nothing to slow his relentless advance. The words, "I'm going to tear you apart," came out of Wayne's mouth as casually as if inviting his old friend out for a drink.

Under his breath, Bullock whispered, "How the hell did everything go even _more_ to shit?"

"Shut up and just keep working," Montoya hissed back, struggling with the wrist she almost had free. 

On the stage, Roman watched with growing unease as Wayne kept coming at him. He fired two more rounds, but one went completely wild, and the other just grazed the man's side, tearing through clothing more than flesh. "Why won't you just die?!"

"You first." Wayne registered a burning sensation as the knife slashed his skin, but he didn't care anymore than he cared about being shot. It could matter later. His fast, hard jab to the other man's nose made a satisfying crack as it made contact. His so-called 'friend' had clearly never been in a real fight in his life. They had both grown up in wealthy households, and Roman had only ever used his family's money to have others do the work for him. A broken nose was enough to make Roman drop his weapons in surprise to clutch at his face. That moment of distraction was more than sufficient for Wayne to clock him with a haymaker that sent Roman to the floor. 

After a swift kick to the ribs, Wayne was about to follow him down to bash his face repeatedly into the wood paneling of the floor, but a soft noise to the side managed to catch his attention. Gordon's head was turned to the side, looking at him, and it almost made Wayne's heart stop to see. It was clearly difficult for Gordon to get words out, but even so, he managed to say, "Don't -- Don't hurt -- him."

Without even another look at Roman, Wayne made his way to Gordon's side with a definite limp finally beginning to show in his step. 

Montoya made a small noise of victory as her left hand finally came free. Wayne was working to free Gordon from the ropes suspending the commissioner, but their host had gone down too easily for her comfort. Something about it didn't seem right. To make matters worse, Wayne's old school buddy had started up again with that creepy, manic laughter.

Bullock was struggling against his own bonds a little more insistently. "Maybe you should hurry up with that."

"Yeah, ya think?" Working the intricate knot left-handed wasn't easy, especially trying to keep one eye on the murderer. When Roman sat up, she shouted out, "Watch it, Wayne!"

Rather than getting up to resume his fight, Roman opened the front of his shirt to reveal far more explosives than Montoya felt comfortable being so close to. While she and Bullock swore colorfully, Wayne was only able to grunt as he half-caught, half-fell under Gordon's weight as the final knots were loosened.

"You're not going to get away from me, Bruce." The vest he wore lit up and began beeping insistently. 

Gordon managed to grit out, "Running would be good."

As soon as she got herself free, Montoya finished helping Bullock out of his own binds. "You grab the Commish; I'll get Wayne out of here. Go, go, go!"

"No, the two of you get him out of here." Wayne rolled the commissioner over towards them and began crawling over to where Roman sat. He brought his fist down on Roman's face again and again. Bullock wasted no time in grabbing Gordon, but Montoya hesitated. The boss would be out for blood if they let Wayne get himself blown up, and Wayne could sense her hesitation. "Get Gordon, don't worry about me! Go!"

Fighting would have only wasted time, and she wasn't entirely certain that she could get Wayne out if he struggled. Montoya turned and grabbed Gordon's legs to help Bullock with his weight, and they ran. Gordon reached out behind him, but he was too weak to struggle. "No-- Bruce--"

"He's right behind us," Bullock stated with as much confidence as he could while running headlong for the doors. Under his breath, he added, "Maybe that fancy Ivy League school of his taught him how to dismantle bombs." Halfway across the lobby, an explosion rang out behind them. "Or not..."

"Just keep moving," Montoya snapped as chunks of the ceiling came loose and began raining down around them.

*****

"I really miss the old days," Bullock grumbled to himself as he struggled to break into the locked squad car to get at the radio. "You remember, Montoya? When there used to be goddamn payphones on the fucking street corners? You could call the station for a dime for some fucking backup when a homicidal freak locks you out of your damned car!"

Montoya looked up from her work just long enough to shoot him a disbelieving stare. "No, you idiot, I'm not older than dirt." She couldn't quite make out what his reply was, but the tone wasn't particularly kind as he continued his efforts to get into the car. She turned her attention back to Gordon, trying to evaluate the seriousness of his injuries and stop the bleeding as best she could until help arrived. "Will you hurry up?! We need backup, an ambulance, the frickin' fire department-- What the hell is _that_?" 

"No..." Bullock stopped what he was doing to stare where she was pointing. "No fucking way. I don't believe it. How the hell did he get out of there?"

From around the side of the building, a battered and dirty Bruce Wayne stumbled out of the side alley, dragging Roman behind him by the foot. The unconscious man's head thunked against every bump in the uneven pavement along the way. Swearing again, Bullock abandoned his efforts to open the squad car in favor of assuring that the perp was properly apprehended and that Wayne wouldn't do anything else stupid. "I got him; you can let go," he said gently, reaching out to take Roman's leg away from Wayne who was visibly shaking as he stood there. "What the fuck happened in there, man?"

"Oh, nothing much..." Wayne's voice was shaking almost as badly as he was himself. As the rush of adrenaline began to wear off, numerous injuries were vying to make themselves known. But there would be time for that later. Roman was in Bullock's care, which meant there was only one thing left he needed to do. "I just dumped the explosives in the pit below the stage and ran for it."

"Under the stage?" The expression of utter disbelief never left Bullock's face as he watched Wayne stagger over to the other detective to fall down beside Gordon.

Montoya nodded, finally understanding. "Of course, it's a theater! There are trap doors in the stage floor to raise and lower props. That would have provided a little cover from the blast. That was really good thinking, Wayne!"

"Yeah, brilliant." Bullock dragged Roman along behind him the few feet back to the squad car so that he could return his attention to getting them some backup. "Ain't nobody going to believe that Bruce Wayne swooped in and saved the day, though."

Wayne reached out to take Gordon's hand. Relief flooded through him as the commissioner's eyes briefly opened his eyes and attempted a weak smile at his friend. As the urgency of the moment passed, Wayne found he was having trouble keeping his eyes open as well. Letting out a weak laugh, he replied, "You could always just tell people that Batman showed up and got us all out."

Montoya left Gordon's side to come up to Wayne, but he only tried to wave her off. "I'm fine. Doesn't even hurt," he insisted, batting her hands away so that she would turn her attention back to Gordon, but the sound of breaking glass momentarily distracted him. Wayne turned his head to see that Bullock had given up on trying to get the car open and had simply smashed a window to reach in for the radio."Take care of him first."

"That's not a good thing, idiot," she hissed back, taking off her jacket to wrap around him. "It's _supposed_ to hurt when you get shot. You're in shock. Bullock's radioing in for an ambulance, but you need to keep still and let me see how bad it is." 

"I'll be fine, just make sure he's okay." 

"Hey, look at me." The softness of her words caused Wayne's head rolled back towards her. His brow furrowed as he tried to decide if she was speaking quietly or if he really was worse off than he thought. Some of the urgency left her features when he complied, and the detective offered him an understanding smile. "You're important to him, too, you know. It won't make him happy if you kick off here because you're being stubborn."

Defeated, Wayne gave up and stopped struggling against her efforts. Instead, he simply turned his head to keep his gaze locked on Gordon, as if making sure that his chest continued to rise and fall with labored breaths. In the distance, he was sure that he heard Montoya say that an ambulance was on the way, but it didn't matter. Gordon was alive, and that was all that mattered.

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. I don't know whether or not that's the longest chapter I've written for this fic, but I think it might be the most action-packed. The boys had a very busy day! There will be two more chapters to wrap up the case-centric second arc of the story, then on to the more relationship-centric third arc.


	26. Chapter 26

~May 01~

The sudden, unmistakable feeling of being watched pulled Gordon from his sleep. The dim glow from the various pieces of medical equipment did little to illuminate the room. Of course, without his glasses, he couldn't even see the hands on the clock across the room. Unable to make out anyone in the darkness, Gordon asked in a sleepy voice, "Someone there?"

After a moment's hesitation, an unmistakable voice replied, "I didn't mean to wake you."

Gordon's eyes slipped shut again, and a smile spread across his face. Gingerly, he rolled over onto his side so that he could face his friend, and then had to laugh. "Wow. I haven't seen you wearing _that_ in a long time. Suit at the cleaners?"

"Something like that," Batman replied, the barest hint of a smile turning up his features. 

As his eyes adjusted to the dark, it was easier to make out the man seated in the corner beside his bed. In black jeans and turtleneck, he could have passed for just a normal person -- if not for the ski mask. "Everything all right?"

"I'm fine," was the automatic response, which left Gordon doubting that it was strictly true. Skepticism must have been evident on his face, because Batman elaborated. "I can get around easier without it on. The Bat is so that criminals know fear; the Kevlar is so I that don't get shot. Neither seemed necessary here. Right now, I'm more concerned about you."

"You shouldn't be." Gordon lifted his left hand to show off the IV leading into the top of it. "They have me on something great. Don't know what it is, but it makes me _really_ not care that everything hurts."

At that, a genuine smile passed across Batman's face, though it was quickly replaced by a more tense expression. "You had me really scared," he admitted, his voice softer than usual.

"I was pretty scared, too." Gordon wanted to reach out, to pull the other man into a hug and never let go, but he doubted that Batman would allow it. "I did what you suggested, though. I trusted the people of Gotham, and they came through for me when I couldn't get in touch with you." 

Nodding in agreement, Batman stated, "You have some good people working for you." He hesitated a moment, then rose. "I should go. You need to rest."

The words, "Don't leave," slipped out before he could even think about what he was saying. Surprisingly, though, they worked, stopping Batman even as he was moving to go. "Please? Stay here with me a little longer?"

Batman stared at the hand reaching out to him. "I'm not real," he said, even as he took Gordon's hand in his own. "I want to -- I want _this_ , but I can't exist in the light. I can't be there with you..."

"You're real to me. Illusions don't have to wear battle armor, and I don't want to have regrets if something should happen to one of us." He could see the other man's hesitation wavering, so he pulled aside the thin white blanket covering him and inched over to make room for Batman in the narrow bed. "Please?"

Unable to refuse, Batman allowed himself to be pulled forward, and he wrapped himself around Gordon while being mindful of the IV. For a time, he was content to just lie there, stretched out alongside the other man, running his hands along Gordon's body, silently reassuring himself that the commissioner was all right, that he _had_ managed to get there in time. 

It wasn't long before Gordon cupped his chin and lifted his head to bring their mouths together. Kissing wasn't any easier around the fabric of this mask than it had been around the graphite of his helmet. Letting out a small growl of frustration, Batman reached up to simply remove the ski mask, but Gordon caught his hand to stop him.

"I trust you," Batman stated, dipping his head down to capture Gordon's lips in another brief kiss. 

"And it means a lot to me that you do, but _I_ don't trust me. Not that I would ever tell anyone willingly, but--" He took a deep breath. "I mean, this isn't your secret alone, right? I really hope you have people you love, who you care about and are protecting by wearing that thing."

Batman gave a weak nod of agreement. "There's still someone." 

The word 'still' sent a cold shiver through Gordon, implying that Batman had already lost loved ones in this fight, and he brought his arms up to hold the man in a close embrace. Lying there with Batman in his arms made him feel better than he had in far too long. Even when his kids had come to visit, he'd had to put on a brave face. Now, he could just be himself -- which he realized was probably what the other man wanted. "Whatever you need."

"Turn your head?"

It took Gordon a moment to realize what was being asked of him, but then he did as he was asked. He turned his head to the side, closing his eyes so he wouldn't be tempted. He heard the rustle of fabric before he felt Batman's mouth on his throat, this time unobstructed by the knit material. It was every bit as amazing as it had been the first time. Batman's hands worked along his body, and it felt amazing, even if he was being far too gentle with his touches. Gordon tried to impress his desire on the other man by reaching between them to fumble with the button of his jeans.

Unfortunately, it had the opposite reaction than he desired. Batman pulled away and stopped his hands from continuing. "You don't have to--" 

"I'm not doing anything because I _have_ to. I want to." He raised a hand to feel blindly until he was able to cup Batman's cheek. "I _want_ to. Now get back down here and kiss me again."

Batman did as he was told, taking Gordon's mouth again. This time, he didn't protest as Gordon worked his pants open and half off his hips. He couldn't keep himself from making small, needy sounds as Gordon's hand worked its way inside to rub him. The other hand, mostly immobile from the IV, just rested on his back as a comforting presence. He pushed the hem of the turtleneck out of the way so that he could touch skin, seeking out the injury he'd helped stitch up. Though it had healed over, the raised scar was still a reminder of how uncertain their lives were. Nothing could be taken for granted. This was something he needed, in case next time didn't go as well for them. They were damned lucky -- both of them. And as much as he wanted to see Batman's face, to burn his expression into his memory, it wasn't fair to the other man. He gave so much. If anonymity was what he needed, then he could have it. There was always next time. The thought made him grin, which was quickly followed by Batman's mouth on his.

"What?"

"Just thinking how nice it would be to be inside you." He could feel Batman's lips turn up in a smile as well before his head shifted to bury his face against Gordon's shoulder. He was still thrusting into Gordon's hand, shaking now. It was hard to decide if he should draw it out or let the man come. His strokes slowed to gentle touches, getting small gasps in response, and he loved the way it sounded. Feeling daring, Gordon lightened his touch, teasing him with only palming his hand over the man's cock, but he got a slightly less than gentle nip on the shoulder in response.

"What do you think about that?" he asked, returning to firmer strokes.

"Don't think your stitches would appreciate it."

"But would _you_?"

"God, yes." The words fell from his mouth in a labored pant as he tried to hold himself back. It made Gordon even harder to hear it. Batman's voice was full of promise as he asked, "Next time?"

His eyes still shut, Gordon turned his head to claim Batman's mouth again. Rather than fighting him for control, he submitted easily to Gordon's lead, letting out tiny moans of desire. After a few moments, Gordon released the man's mouth to state, "Definitely. I want you under me, and to be somewhere you can be louder. I want to hear exactly how much you like what I'm doing to you."

That was when Batman decided that Gordon looked altogether too smug as he spoke. Stroking Gordon in return only made him look more pleased with himself, so he stilled Gordon's hand in order to scoot lower on the narrow bed. The bedding bunched around him, and he had to fumble with the uncooperative hospital gown before he was able to take Gordon in his mouth.

Letting out a low groan, Gordon brought both hands up to curl in Batman's hair, and he couldn't help looking down. He was only able to see short, dark hair as Batman's head bobbed up and down. Then Gordon's eyes fell shut again, and he had to bite back another moan. Batman's hands were pressed hard against his hips to keep him from thrusting up and potentially tearing his stitches, and shortly, he had Gordon panting hard, needing to find release. 

Batman mouthed a trail of kisses back up to Gordon's throat before taking them both in hand and stroking together. In the end, Gordon came with Batman's mouth covering his, swallowing his soft cries of pleasure until the man's heavy weight settled atop him. It wouldn't last forever. Batman would have to leave before the nurses changed shifts and came to check on him, but until then, they could lie there together, sated.

*****


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final story arc begins, in which Bruce decides that he wants more from his relationship with Gordon than being Batman allows -- so he sets out to change things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe another twelve chapters or so to wrap things up? Sorry it's been so long in coming. School and Avengers wove a devious plot to eat up all my time. But I decided not to start posting the epic FrostIron beast until this one's done.

~May 29~

"If you stay here much longer, you may as well start the day shift."

Gordon came perilously close to spilling his coffee all over the stack of neatly typed reports spread across his desk. While he was used to Batman's sudden appearance on rooftops and at crime scenes, he had never snuck up behind him in his office before. Not since their first meeting with a stapler. Carefully setting aside his mug, Gordon turned to level a stern look at the other man. "I've had cats that made more noise than you! I think you just like trying to startle me."

"Maybe." Batman's mouth twitched up into his version of a smile. "Aren't you supposed to be on medical leave for another two weeks?"

"I was processing the last of the paperwork on our sociopathic friend. We finally got approval to move him from Arkham to Blackgate, and I want this guy _off_ my desk so that I can start the new month completely free of him."

"That might explain why there's work to be done, but not why _you're_ doing it instead of someone who wasn't just shot."

"It was a month ago!" he exclaimed in exasperation, as if that should have been more than sufficient. "All this bed rest has had me climbing the walls at home. I just needed to get away for a bit, and it's not like I'm exerting myself by sitting here pushing paper."

There was an unease in Gordon's voice and posture that Batman found unsettling. Reaching out, he put a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder and simply stood there. After a few moments, Gordon's body slumped against him, and the commissioner let out a shaky sigh. Without any concern for where they were, he pulled Gordon into a tight embrace.

"Just promise me you won't overdo it."

"I promise not to work any harder than you do." He could feel the Kevlar suit vibrate with the man's laughter. "That's not really saying much, is it? All right, I'll take it easy and get some rest. I didn't plan on being here much longer anyway. There's a sort of 'welcome back' party the guys are throwing at the station on Monday, and they wanted me to say a few words. I was only going to stay long enough to finish processing Sionis's paperwork and outline what I wanted to say."

"Which you could easily do tomorrow. From home. You need to rest and take it easy, or you'll never pass the qualifying exams to return to field duty."

Rolling his eyes, Gordon acquiesced. "All right, fine. I'll finish signing off on this case and head out. It's just... right now, it's more peaceful here than at home. It hasn't exactly been a restful couple of weeks. Barbara, she's decided that I've had one too many masked men in my life and has been packing her things."

Batman froze, a chill running through him. Hesitantly, he asked, "Because of me?"

"As soon as the school year is over, she's moving out with the kids. Plans to move upstate." Gordon held him closer and rested his forehead against Batman's shoulder. "This is something that's been coming for a long time, and it's not your fault. I don't know what I would have done without you here with me."

"You aren't the only one. I can't tell you how many times your being here has kept me from..." He couldn't bring himself to give voice to all the things he'd contemplated doing. Knowing that Gordon depended on him had been all that kept him going through many long, painful nights. "It's not worth you losing your kids, your wife."

"You think I should go with her?"

There was a hint of challenge in Gordon's tone to match the faint smile turning up the edges of his mouth. Batman reached out to run his fingers along the commissioner's cheek. "I think... I think you need to do whatever is best for you. I can't make that decision for you, and I would understand if keeping your family safe is what you chose."

"I _am_ keeping them safe. By letting them leave, I know they'll be out of harm's way, but I can't go with them." He pressed Batman's gloved hand flush against the side of his face. "Not any more than I could leave you here alone."

It was awkward, trying to kiss the other man around the mask and armor, but Batman managed to tilt his head and press their mouths together. After a moment, he pulled back enough to murmur, "I don't want you to go."

"Good thing I don't plan on going anywhere, then." Gordon reached up to wrap his arms around Batman's neck.

*****

~June 1~ 

"I don't care if it's half-days, flying a desk," Wayne grumbled as they slowly made their way from the MCU parking lot towards the building. "I still can't figure how you got them to agree to take you back to work this early after what happened. You're supposed to be on medical leave for another two weeks."

"I swear, you nag at me more than my mother!" Gordon shifted the bag of their lunch leftovers from one hand to the other so that he could grip the railing along the steps leading into the building and leaned on it heavily for support. "For the hundredth time, I'm fine. I may not be one hundred percent yet, but I can still ride a desk with the best of them. I was starting to climb the walls from boredom. What about you, mother hen? You got shot more times than I did! Why aren't _you_ home in bed?"

"Alfred had that look about him that said he was about ready to throttle me if I didn't get out of the house. Apparently, I'm a handful or something. Here, let me get the door for you."

"Thank you." Gordon stood a little straighter and forced any traces of a limp from his gait as they crossed the threshold into the newly re-opened MCU building. He wasn't about to let any weakness show here in front of his officers. "And believe me, I remember how much of a handful you were for just one night."

Wayne's tone sounded offended by the insinuation. "A 'handful'? That's not very charitable of you. I think of myself as more 'charmingly capricious'." His remark made the officer at the entrance metal detector chuckle as she waved the pair of them through. "You don't agree? How about 'irresistibly incorrigible'?" 

Still smiling, she waved at them and replied, "Have a good day, sirs."

Leading Wayne over towards the bank of elevators, Gordon replied, "What you were was minutes away from being hogtied and locked in a broom cupboard."

With a grimace on his face, Wayne nodded slowly. "Yes, I got the impression that Detective Bullock doesn't care for me very much."

"I don't think that Bullock particularly cares for _anybody_ , so don't feel too bad. Besides, you grow on people. Give him time for that capricious charm to win him over." When the elevator reached the ground floor and opened with a soft _ding_ , Gordon turned to his friend and asked, "You have time to come up for a while?"

"I..." Wayne's voice trailed off, and he looked from the elevator to Gordon to the waiting doors again. "I shouldn't. Remember? I was given clear instructions to keep my bothersome interference to the night shift. I don't think Captain Sawyer would like me stopping by at noon."

"What's the fun of being the commissioner if I can't bend the rules a little to have my own way? Especially the arbitrary ones." He stepped halfway into the elevator, leaning against the door so it would remain open while he waited. "Come on, we can hang out a while and feel rebellious."

"All right, but if she yells, I'm hiding behind you like the coward I am."

Gordon nodded amiably. "I will take full responsibility for all yelling that might take place."

Three floors up, the elevator doors opened once again. There, the MCU bullpen was filled with officers and detectives in their dress uniforms. Gordon had to give his friend a shove to get him moving, and once Wayne stepped from the elevator to stare around the room in wonder, everyone snapped to attention. 

"What is all this?" he asked in wonder, watching curiously as Cornwell came over to greet them. 

Unable to control his grin, Gordon shrugged innocently and replied, "Why do you think I should know? Morning, Dave, nice to see you could make it so early in the day."

"I know, dreadful, isn't it? Being in the office before the sun goes down." Cornwell grinned at them both then assisted his boss in wrangling Wayne up to the front of the crowd. "Come along, gents, they're waiting for you."

Once they had entered the bullpen, everyone saluted them, and Captain Sawyer advanced to meet the pair. After greeting them, she made a lovely speech, saying how glad she was that they had managed to close a case despite Gordon having deserted them to become a politician. The room laughed when they were supposed to, and much of it actually made Gordon blush faintly. Then, it was his turn to say a few words.

Gordon looked around the room at all the faces of the team he'd carefully constructed to form the Major Crimes Unit. The men and women serving there were like a family, complete with the bickering between siblings, and they all made him intensely proud.

"I want to thank you all for your kind sentiments, because I probably won't hear another kind word for weeks, working over in City Hall. The mayor's been all over me this past month, something about a security detail I'm supposed to have, or something like that, I don't know." Stevens tossed off a mock salute in his direction, and there was a lot of good-natured jeering from the crowd. "But there's one person I want to especially thank: Mr Bruce Wayne." 

He gestured at Wayne to come up to the stand beside him. Cornwell gave the man a helpful push when he tried to decline. As Wayne made his way over, Gordon continued to address his officers, saying, "I know you're all familiar with Mr Wayne, at least by name, especially those of you with friends in traffic."

There was a peal of laughter from the assembled men and women, which made Wayne grin shyly in response as he came to stand beside the commissioner. Putting an arm around Wayne's shoulders, Gordon said, "Some of you have had the privilege to get to know my friend as more than just a name. There have been several long nights where our officers have been rescued by him bringing in decent coffee and some real food."

The night shift gave a cheer of appreciation, and Wayne replied, "That's because your break room is stocked with brown sludge and pressed sawdust."

"All jokes aside, Bruce Wayne is someone I'm very proud to call my friend. You see, the media wouldn't sell as many issues if they told you what a good person this man is, so they don't. Ratings wouldn't go up as high if they ran a story saying how he freely gives of himself not just to friends but also to total strangers. And I'm standing here today because of this man's bravery." 

When he paused, the room clapped and Wayne's face was bright red as he looked down at his shoes. Gordon gave his shoulder a squeeze so the other man would look up at him. "I don't know how they do it in other cities. I guess Gotham never really had many citizens lend a hand to the police force before, because the only meritorious award to be granted to civilians is this one." 

From the sidelines, Montoya stepped up and held out a certificate with the city and GCPD seals on it. "For your aid in the capture of a serial killer who is more than a little bit bat-shit crazy, the GCPD extends you its thanks." 

Wayne took the paper to sounds of more cheering from the officers, and after a few moments, he looked up and said, "While we were waiting for the ambulance to arrive, I told the officers that we should just tell everyone Batman showed up at the last minute and saved the day... I never thought anyone would believe it if they reported that it had been me. I figured the EMTs would assume everyone was suffering from head trauma." 

There was some more laughter from the crowd, and Wayne was grinning along at his own expense. Turning to Gordon, he added, "Seriously, though, this is... It's amazing. I don't really think I deserve this, 'cause it was all just a whole lot of dumb luck. Reading this thing now, it's talking about service to the city and 'intelligently' performed duty, and that's _definitely_ not what I remember happening."

Stephens cupped his hands and hollered, "The _intelligent_ thing would have been calling 911, in case you were wondering."

"Is _that_ what I was supposed to do?" He shook his head, dramatically sighing. "I feel so foolish. Thank you for correcting me."

"You're quite welcome." 

Grinning along with the others, Cornwell moved to the front and removed two slim black cases from the pockets of his dress blues. "Then in the face of overwhelming foolishness, we here at the MCU have a little something for the both of you as well. For injuries suffered in the line of duty, I present to you both the Purple Shield. May you wear it with pride -- or shame -- whichever will keep you from earning another one in the future."

Gordon had to cover his mouth with one hand because his attempts to look stern were failing. Wayne didn't try to do any such thing; he just laughed and held up his medal to examine. It was a GCPD issue police badge that had been painted a deep purple. Where the officer's name should have been was engraved with the word "BULLSEYE", and "9-1-1" was in place of the service number.

"While I have only been acquainted with you for a short time, Lieutenant, I'm fairly certain that equal measures of pride and shame are appropriate when dealing with this unit."

"Ah, shucks, it's like you know us." Cornwell's expression was bright and smiling as he saluted them both and returned to his place. 

"All right, you guys, that's enough of this. For those of you not assigned to anything pressing, I'm told there's cake and beer. Thank you all very much for being here and for your support."

Well-wishers wandered by briefly, offering them both congratulations before Gordon was eventually able to pull his friend aside. "If you could have seen the expression on your face," he began, incredibly pleased with himself. 

Holding up the painted shield, Wayne replied, "You have to admit, no one would have expected this."

"No one expects Dave's ideas; he could be part of the Spanish Inquisition." He waited for Wayne to stop laughing before reaching out to take his hand. "There's something else I want you to have," he said softly, slipping a blue ribbon into it.

"What is this?" Wayne asked, turning it over to examine the ring of blue enamel surrounding a gold relief of the Gotham Police Memorial. The words 'For Valor to the Department of Police in Gotham City' were embossed around it, and he looked up at Gordon in confusion. "I don't understand."

"A piece of paper hardly seems commensurate with what you did. I want you to have this. It's the third-highest award the PD can give an officer for work in the line of duty. It's for officers who act with outstanding bravery in the performance of their duty, at great personal risk, regardless of consequences."

Raised texture on the back of the metal made him flip it over where he saw the engraving _Detective Gordon, James H._ Shaking his head, Wayne tried to return it, but Gordon refused to take it back. "Jim, I can't take this."

"I want you to have it." Gordon closed his friend's hand around the medal again. "I want you to keep it so you won't forget that you really are a good person who cares much more than you give yourself credit for."

"I'll never forget." Reaching out, Wayne pulled the other man into a tight embrace. "I'll never forget how much you mean to me."

*****


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of all the people he knew, Wayne was probably the only one he could have called that morning to help him sneak away from reality. Everyone else had a day job, responsibilities, and little to no vacation time. Scheduling issues aside, it still would have been Wayne that he wanted to see. The other man knew exactly what had happened, knew more than most people, yet he wasn't trying to give advice or false cheer saying it would all work out in the end. Wayne was just there...

~June 29~ 

"Are you sure you want to be here today?"

As soon as Stephens had seen Gordon slinking into his office, he had gotten up to follow him. Gordon hadn't even taken off his jacket yet, and if Stephens had his way, the commissioner wouldn't make it that far before turning around and going home. "You've spent the last two weeks packing up your house; you were up in Ithaca all weekend moving Barbara into her new place; and here you are, back at work on Monday? Nuh-uh. You should take the day off."

"I don't want to take a day off." Silently, Gordon wondered what the use was of being the boss if no one listened to you.

"You look exhausted, Jim. We're not going to fall apart without you here."

"I don't _want_ to take the day off! I am perfectly aware that the whole damned _world_ can survive without me, but maybe I don't want to be home alone in an empty house."

Stephens was silent as he watched his best friend sink into his chair and fold his arms over his head, trying to block out the world. After a moment, he managed to find his voice again. "That's not what I meant. We would fall apart without you here, Jim. You're the one who made all of this possible! But if you don't take care of yourself, you're going to end up working yourself to death."

Gordon sat up again and scrubbed at his face, trying to appear a little more upbeat. "It's not your fault, and I shouldn't be snapping at you."

"Hey, my brother and his wife have been separated three times now, so I know how it goes."

The commissioner looked up at him skeptically. "Three times?"

"Yeah. I love him, but the man's got issues." Stephens chuckled and shook his head, thinking back on more than one awkward family holiday. "They're really into makeup sex or something; I don't get it, personally. Point is, though, if you're supposed to be with someone, you work through the rough patches. Sometimes people just need space to remember how much they care about the ones they love."

"What if the person you love wants very different things from life than you do?"

"Jim, there's more to marriage than loving the other person. If it were, it would be so easy." He sank into one of the chairs across from Gordon's desk. He was certain that he wasn't qualified to give good advice on feelings, but his friend was looking desperate. "You can love someone and not enjoy being around them; you can love a person but hate the bad habits they have. There are a million things that can happen to cause two people who love each other to drift apart. If you want to make your marriage work, then there needs to be compromise. The big question is: were the two of you still happy together?"

In response, Gordon closed his eyes and covered his face again. Stephens was rambling on, trying to be helpful, but it was only making things worse. He couldn't remember the last time that he and Barbara had been truly happy together instead of just 'getting along'. It was certainly before the Joker, before his promotion, before the Batman. When was the last time he was happy at all?

Ten days ago, his brain supplied. The memory came back to him the moment he thought of the question. He had met Wayne for drinks after work, and they had gone to a pool hall. That's when he had learned that Wayne's aim improved exponentially with the number of beers he drank. By his third or fourth beer, the man was sinking obscene shots that he had no right to be able to do. He had also left with at least a half dozen women's phone numbers. Just thinking about it made Gordon smile again. 

Stephens wasn't sure what to make of the transition from sullen frowning to a sudden smile, but regardless, Gordon was going to be nothing but an unproductive pain in the ass if he stayed. He wouldn't be able to get any work done, and he would only make the others concerned or uncomfortable by staying. Everyone who mattered already knew about the commissioner's home problems, as it was the MCU's worst kept secret. "Maybe you're right, maybe the house isn't the best place for you to be right now, but you should try to get some rest anyway. Forget about the office for a while; we'll survive until tomorrow. Go do something relaxing; do something fun. Or at the very least, promise me you'll try to catch a nap, 'cause you look dead on your feet."

Leaning back in his chair, Gordon glowered down at his desk as he asked, "Do you have any idea how annoying you are?"

"Yup. Many people have made it a point to remind me. That don't mean I ain't right."

"Fine, you win. I'll make myself scarce for a few hours, but I'll be back tonight for a report on the Hanson case. In the meantime, I promise to have a little fun and to try to relax."

"Thank you! And I promise, if anything hinky happens, you'll hear about it ASAP."

Gordon continued to sit in his chair even after Stephens had left. A few minutes of thought, and he pulled out his cell phone. Hitting his speed dial, he rang Wayne's number and waited. "Hey, Wayne, I know it's a little early for you, but would you have any interest in playing hooky?"

*****

Of all the people he knew, Wayne was probably the only one he could have called that morning to help him sneak away from reality. Everyone else had a day job, responsibilities, and little to no vacation time. Scheduling issues aside, it still would have been Wayne that he wanted to see. The other man knew exactly what had happened, knew more than most people, yet he wasn't trying to give advice or false cheer saying it would all work out in the end. Wayne was just _there_ , laughing and talking about a million inane things that he didn't expect Gordon to keep up with. He also kept Gordon from ordering quite as many drinks as the commissioner wanted to and distracted him with games of pool and the shiny new pinball machine that had been brought into the bar since they'd last been there. At the rate he was going, Wayne was well on his way to having the new high score, and Gordon was happy just watching him slap and tilt the machine.

"You really like winning, don't you." It wasn't a question so much as an observation.

"Not necessarily. Told you before I like to have fun -- except with technology. I hate letting the machine win. I have plenty of quarters if you'd like to give it a try," he offered, not taking his eyes off the shiny chrome ball.

"No thanks. It's more fun watching you play."

At that moment, the ball went into a little cave and began bouncing around inside wildly, racking up an unseemly number of points. Wayne took advantage of the brief reprieve to look over his shoulder and level an evaluating gaze on the commissioner. "You could stand to play a little more yourself," he said at last, though Gordon could tell it wasn't entirely what he had wanted to say.

"Well, you could stand to play a little less and go to bed when normal people do." He felt a twinge of guilt for having dragged the other man out. He was well aware that Wayne kept the hours of vampire, often partying literally until the sun was coming up. After their first meeting, Gordon had taken to eating late lunches on Mondays so that Wayne could get a little extra sleep before their outings. There were deep circles under Wayne's eyes, and he looked dead on his feet, meaning that he'd stayed out all night again and had planned to catch up on his sleep at the office. "So what's her name?"

"What's whose name?"

"Come on, what else would a guy like you be doing out until the crack of dawn every night?"

Wayne turned away from the game fully this time to frown at him, completely uncaring as his ball fell squarely between the paddles and the machine buzzed tauntingly at him. It only lasted a moment before his easy smile was back, and he pulled the handle back to release another ball. "That's me, all right. I'm not really sure, but I think she said her name was Misty."

"You spent the entire evening out with a woman, and you don't even know what her name is?" 

"We've gone out a few times, so I really ought to remember, but... well, you know how it is." When Gordon snorted at him in disbelief, Wayne asked, "What, that's never happened to you?"

"Some of us actually talk to our dates," Gordon replied teasingly since he could tell that Wayne was joking with him as well. The other man had a disturbing capacity for remembering things. He had seen Wayne circulate among total strangers, drawing on nothing more than observations to have full-length conversations that would make the other person feel both comfortable and important. Wayne had a lot more talent than he shared with the world, and he was only being obtuse because of the uncharitable implication in Gordon's earlier remark. 

Thinking about why Wayne acted the way he did would only serve to give him a headache, and there were better ways to kill his morning. "You want a beer?"

"No." Giving up on the game, Wayne turned back to Gordon and put an arm around his shoulders to steer his friend towards the bar. "But I think I could be talked into a scotch. Then you can tell me all about your weekend, which we've spent the last couple of hours pretending never happened."

"That would be because I don't want to talk about it. Two scotches, please, neat." As the bartender turned around to pull the bottle off the shelf behind him, Gordon had to slap at Wayne's hand to keep him from reaching for his wallet before pulling out his own.

Wayne perched himself on one of the barstools and gave it a spin. That damned infectious smile of his caused Gordon's posture to relax slightly as some of the tension there melted. "Did you ever stop being twelve?"

"I never got to be twelve before, so I'm trying to experience it now. That's what I'm told, anyway."

"You see a head shrinker?"

"Oh, hell no. I know that I could probably pay for the doctor's _grandkids_ to go to college with the number of visits I'd be making if I were to start going, but I have a deep dislike of the profession. If you'll recall, we've had that conversation before." Putting his feet down, he stopped the stool's momentum so that he was turned to face Gordon. "So tell me about the new place. Do you at least like the house? I can't imagine that you'd let them move into a sketchy neighborhood."

"No, the house itself is fine." Gordon sat down as well, pressing the palms of his hands against his eyes. "I went up with her before she closed with the agent to make sure that the plumbing and wiring were all sound. There were a few things that helped keep the overall price down, but they should all be easy enough to fix. A couple of the doors stick, and the basement isn't finished, but I've set aside some time on the weekends to go up and work on the little problems so she won't need to hire anyone to do it. It's got a huge porch, and a big open yard. It would be perfect for a dog if they had a fence. Jimmy's wanted a dog for years, but we didn't think the neighborhood was safe enough for one to be outside all the time."

"Sounds like you should start pricing lumber, then. I bet Jimmy would appreciate a dog a lot more if he helped you build the fence." When the drinks came, Wayne actually took a few sips instead of simply pretending as he usually did. It seemed like an appropriate occasion for a drink. Gordon was sacrificing just as much if not more for their dream of a better Gotham, and Wayne understood just how painful it could be.

When Gordon didn't reply, a tense silence settled between them for a few minutes. The two sat with their drinks until Wayne finally admitted softly, "It may be selfish of me, but I'm glad that you stayed. No one would have judged you if you'd left, but I'm glad you're here. Gotham needs you."

"It would be nice if it showed a little appreciation in return." His words were still bitter, but it made him feel good to know that Wayne thought so much of him.

"You're not alone in this." He moved his hand so that it was resting on the bar against Gordon's. "I'll do whatever I can to help."

His breathing was a little shaky as he rubbed his knuckles against the back of Wayne's hand. He wasn't sure what would happen. He was probably crazy for doing it, but he needed to feel good about himself, even if it was just for a few minutes. "I really appreciate it."

"There are a lot of things that are important to me," Wayne murmured in reply. Emboldened by the alcohol, he turned his hand in order to lace his fingers through Gordon's. "And I always fight for the things I care about. If there's anything you need, you only have to ask."

*****


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Batman gestured for him to come nearer, and when he did, he was surprised to find himself being pulled into a kiss. It was a dangerous thing to do out in the open, but he couldn't bring himself to care...

~July 17~ 

After his wife had moved out, Gordon had considered moving somewhere smaller than the three-bedroom apartment his family had shared. In the end, he'd decided to stay, in part because it served to remind him of what he hoped to gain from his sacrifices. Moving into a new home was tantamount to giving up on ever having his life return to normal; it was acceptance. There was also the benefit of the apartment’s being familiar for the kids when they came back to visit. As it was, Barbara had agreed to drop them off every other weekend until school started. 

That afternoon was the first he'd seen them since he'd left Ithaca after helping move them into their new home. By dinner, though, most of the initial awkwardness had worn off, and both Babs and Jimmy were excitedly chattering about their new neighborhood. Until the doorbell rang.

Jimmy was out of his seat running for the door before the buzzer had even stopped. "I've got it!"

After quickly finishing off the last of his iced tea, Gordon pushed back his chair and stood to go see who was at the door. "Is he expecting someone?"

"Nope. He's probably just hoping to get out of doing the dishes." Much to Babs’s annoyance, her father rubbed her head affectionately as he walked past.

Gordon was just coming around the corner as Jimmy yelled that it was for him. He was pleased but surprised to see Bruce Wayne standing in his doorway, though Wayne's expression was guilty.

"I'm sorry, I guess I should have called first," he said apologetically. "I didn't realize that you had your kids over. I'll catch you another time -- I don't want to interrupt you."

Gordon waved off his concerns and put a hand on Jimmy's head since the boy was lingering behind him, peering up curiously at Wayne. "Jimmy, this is my friend, Mr Wayne. Say hello."

Jimmy hadn't recognized the man's face, but he certainly knew the name "Wayne". He held out his hand politely from behind his father's back like he'd seen adults do when meeting someone important for the first time. "Are you here for my dad on business?"

"No. I just wanted to visit," Wayne replied, shaking the boy's hand. "I didn't realize that my timing was so bad, though. Sorry about that."

Jimmy brightened visibly at that. "Oh, that's fine, then. So long as he doesn't have to go to work."

"Jimmy!" 

It was Gordon's turn to be apologetic, but Wayne only chuckled and shook his head. "I promise not to drag him off for work or any other reason. It was nothing important, so I can bother you on Monday like usual. Really, I should have called."

"No, no. Come on in. After all, a dad loves showing off his kids." He stepped aside to let his friend in, then added, "And I'm fairly certain that Babs would kill me if she didn't get to see you again."

Jimmy was still looking up at him with a critical expression, trying to decide what he thought of the man. He might not have been as interested in the news as his sister, but it was impossible to live in Gotham without knowing a little about the Wayne family history. "So you and Dad are friends?"

"I like to think so," Wayne responded. "You sure you don't mind if I come in for a little while?"

"Nah, it's cool." Having made up his mind, he reached out and took Wayne by the hand to lead him further into the house. "If the two of you are friends, then why have you never come around before?"

Wayne could hear the commissioner groaning behind them, and it made his grin widen even more. "I guess because your dad works so hard. He's at the office a lot, so I usually go see him there over lunch breaks."

"How come you-"

"Jimmy, if you're done with dinner, go put your dishes in the sink." Gordon decided to cut his son off before he gave Wayne the third degree. His son made a face but hurried off to do as he was told.

Still seated at the table, Bab's jaw nearly dropped off when he walked into the dining room with her father. While his son had known the name, Barbara knew the man on sight. When Wayne offered her a dazzling smile, Gordon knew that she would be texting about this moment for the rest of the weekend.

"Hey, Babs, it's nice to see you again. Still leading the way in your attempts to become Gotham's youngest entrepreneur?"

She stood quickly and stuttered a moment as she tried to find an answer that wouldn't make her sound childish. "I -- Yeah, I've been trying to keep up on current affairs. There's been a lot going on recently."

"I know, I heard about the tragic accident in Wittelsheim." When Babs tilted her head in confusion, he added, "The woman who was killed watching the Tour de France; she was hit by one of the police bikes."

It was hard to keep from laughing at him, but somehow, Babs managed to keep a straight face. "I was a little more interested to hear that President Obama reached an agreement with the Russian government to lessen the number of nuclear arms we keep stockpiled.” 

"That's good." Wayne nodded in agreement with himself. "That's a very good thing. Glad to hear you're still taking a stand against social injustice."

From the kitchen, Jimmy shouted, "Oh, _please_ don't get her started!"

"Just because you're an uncultured idiot doesn't mean that everyone is!"

Gordon watched as Jimmy came back in to bicker with his sister, each trying to pull Wayne to their side of the argument. It had taken months for Wayne to stop his pretenses when they were alone together. As soon as anyone joined them, though, the man's shields were back up, and it often took some time for them to drop completely once more. It was pleasing to see that his children didn't drive Wayne too far back into his shell. Gordon resolved to ask Wayne about it later. Until now, he had left it as Wayne's business, but if the man felt comfortable enough with their relationship to make house calls, then they were close enough that he felt he could ask personal questions.

After a bit more "debate", they all retired to the living room with dessert, where both of his children continued to hound Wayne with their questions. Gordon was forced to admit that Wayne possessed the most disarming smile in the world, and idly, he imagined what it would be like to do as Stephens had suggested. If the GPD were to hire Wayne as their office mascot, he was half certain that the man would be able to simply smile at criminals and instantly persuade them to do whatever he asked.

Eventually, he managed to shoo the children away to finish their chores before it got too late. Although Babs went off dutifully with minimal fuss, Jimmy lingered a moment. "Can I go outside first? I'll clean up later, I promise." Ignoring his father's stern look, Jimmy put on the best 'cute and innocent' expression he could muster. " _Ple-e-ease_ , Dad?"

"Oh, fine. Twenty minutes, and don't wander off." The boy's face brightened, and he dashed off through the house to go out the back door. Shaking his head, Gordon stood up and began clearing the dishes from the coffee table for his son.

Wayne gathered his own cup and plate before following Gordon into the kitchen. "It's a little late to be playing outside, isn't it?"

"Jimmy likes to wait outside a little bit before bedtime."

"Odd habit. What's he waiting for?"

Embarrassed, Gordon hesitated a moment before answering. If he expected Wayne to answer any of his own questions later, it wouldn't do to withhold information himself. "He... Jimmy wants to thank Batman for something. He thinks that if he waits long enough, Batman will come by eventually."

"Batman's in the habit of dropping by your house?" Wayne sounded both skeptical and amused by the idea.

"Stranger things have happened in Gotham. Besides, I'd rather he stood on the back porch for a few minutes instead of getting it into his head to wander the city at night looking for him."

"Why would he want to thank the Batman?"

"He feels it's something that he has to do." He put his own stack of dishes in the sink before taking Wayne's handful and adding it to the pile. 

When Gordon walked away to start putting the leftovers into Tupperware, Wayne rolled up his sleeves and turned the water on to begin washing up. Gordon couldn't help thinking how surreal it was to have Bruce Wayne in his kitchen doing dishes, but he finished his own task in silence then moved to dry what Wayne had washed. The pair worked together peacefully, just enjoying the company, until the front door slammed shut and Jimmy came running back in.

"That was fast." Gordon looked over his shoulder to face Jimmy. "Any luck?"

"Not tonight. Is that your car, Mr Wayne? I mean, obviously it has to be, no one around here has one of those, but what kind is it? It's really cool."

"It's a Ferrari 430 Scuderia. It's last year's model, but I still like it. It does naught to sixty in three-point-one seconds with a top speed just short of two hundred. _Not_ that I would ever exceed the posted speed limits like that. It would be wrong, very wrong."

"Fess up." Gordon turned to lean against the counter while eyeing Wayne critically. "You just like flashy cars that go 'vroom'."

"I like going 'vroom' a great deal."

"Can I sit in it?"

"Jimmy!" Gordon vigorously ruffled his son's hair for his forwardness.

Trying again, he promised, "I won't touch anything. Please?" 

"Maybe another time."

Gesturing for the boy to come over, Wayne knelt down in front of him and held his gaze. "Not many people know this, but when I was a kid, I used to follow my dad to work. I loved it so much. He would show me how everything in his office worked, teach me anything I asked about. Curiosity's a good thing, Jimmy. Anytime you want, that your father says is all right, I'd be happy to show you whatever you like." 

To Gordon specifically, he added, "Kind of like parents, people with flashy cars like to show them off, too."

Jimmy perked up excitedly, saying, "Maybe you could come back tomorrow!"

"Oh, I don't know. I don't want to take away the time you have with your dad."

"You're his friend, right? You should come out with us." Jimmy was smiling at him so brightly that Wayne didn't have the heart to say no. Sensing that he might actually get his way, the boy pressed on. "We're going out for mini-golf and pizza and to see the new Harry Potter movie! _The Half-Blood Prince_ came out last night."

Wayne looked up at his friend for guidance. When Gordon gave a small nod, he said, "That sounds great. The Ferrari and I will be back in the morning then." After Jimmy cheered and ran from the room to tell his sister, Wayne slowly stood back up. "Is it going to be a problem that I've never seen any of those movies before?"

"It'll only be a problem if the kids hear you say that. They'll have you tied to the couch marathoning the first five films."

" _Five?_ Jesus, how many are there?"

"As far as I know, there are seven books, but we'll see if Hollywood doesn't milk the franchise for a lot more than that."

*****

~August 1~

Jimmy staggered into the kitchen and dropped his head dramatically onto the counter. "Please, make them stop!"

"Stop what?" Gordon looked up from his sink full of dishes long enough to determine that the situation wasn't serious, judging from the bored expression his son wore.

"They've been going on and on and _on_ about politics since dinner. I can't take it anymore!" Jimmy turned to his father imploringly. "I don't even know who Keith Olderman _is_ , let alone what they're talking about."

"Olbermann, and let Babs have her fun." As the sound of popping from the microwave began to slow, he shook what moisture he could from his hands before hurrying to open the door before the popcorn inside burned. "You know she doesn't get on well with most of the kids her age. Let her have some fun with the big kid I found for her to play with, and you can pick what we do the next time Bruce comes over."

The promise of future visits with their new friend caused the boy's sour expression to brighten. "Bruce was telling me about how he used to collect comic books, and he promised to show some of them to me." 

"And then you'll have your revenge, 'cause that will bore Babs out of her mind." He opened the bag to dump the contents into a large plastic bowl. "You guys manage to pick out a movie for tonight?"

Jimmy shrugged and replied, "Bruce brought _WALL-E_ with him and something called _Watchmen_. The cover looks like it's some sort of comic book movie?"

"I think we'll be sticking with PIXAR tonight. _Watchmen_ might be based on a comic, but Alan Moore is a little too mature for you guys."

"Ooh, was that the one with the naked, blue alien-thing?"

"That's the one. I already get into too much trouble from your mom for letting you watch horror movies, so go tell the others to cue up _WALL-E_. And find out what everyone wants to drink with their popcorn. I'm going to throw in another bag while I clear out the last of the dishes."

"Okay." 

"Hey, wait. Come here a sec." Gordon knelt down and pulled the boy into a tight hug. "I know you and your sister don't get to come here very often any more, but I love you both and miss you every day. You know that, right?"

Jimmy seemed a little confused by the sudden change in mood, as he felt the answer ought to be obvious. "Babs said that if we stayed in Gotham, bad guys might try to use us to stop you from catching them. Going away with Mom means that you and Batman will have an easier time catching all the bad guys, and then we can come home when Gotham's a good place to live again."

"That's right." He reached out to ruffle Jimmy's hair and pulled him into another quick hug. "In the meantime, though, your mom and I agreed that you two would come down to visit sometimes on weekends. I wanted to make sure, though... We don't see each other often, so you really don't mind if Bruce is here sometimes while you're visiting? Would you rather it was just us?"

"Do you mind him being here?"

"I love having Bruce around," Gordon replied, "but I love you and Babs more." 

With a small shrug of his shoulders, Jimmy said, "We like having him around, too. He's really fun."

"All right, then." Nodding, Gordon stood back up and gave his son a small push towards the doorway. "Go tell the other kids to wind down their fighting. I'll be about five minutes, then it's movie time!"

*****

~August 16~

Jimmy was outside leaning against the porch railing when Gordon opened the back door and stepped out to hand his son a glass of lemonade. Standing there, he rested a hand on his son's head as they both looked out over the street. "Do you want to watch a movie tonight?"

The offer caught Jimmy by surprise. Even though it was the weekend, it was almost bedtime. "Yeah, that'd be great."

"Ten more minutes while I scoop up a couple bowls of ice cream, then."

Jimmy nodded, but as his father turned to leave, he asked, "Dad? Do you think he'll ever come?"

Gordon turned back to his son, and he had to pause a moment to stare in surprise. It wasn't just a trick of the light; there really was a dark figure seated up high on the fire escape. Gordon suddenly felt choked up that the Batman would care enough to come just because a little boy wanted to see him. "I think he just might," Gordon said, nodding upwards. 

Jimmy looked up as well and nearly dropped his glass in surprise. "Batman!"

Gordon opened the door and stepped inside. "I'll go pop a movie in. You take your time."

Jimmy didn't know where to start once he'd been left alone with his hero. Opening his mouth, he blurted out the words he'd been wanting to say for months. "I've been waiting for you! I wanted to thank you for saving my life, and I wanted to thank you for all the times you've helped Daddy. And, you know, for everything you do all the time for Gotham."

Batman refused to allow himself to smile at the boy's earnestness, instead nodding solemnly before saying, "You don't need to thank me -- for any of it."

"No, I do!" He carefully set his glass down on the railing so that he wouldn't drop it in his excitement. "You do all these great things, and then the police chased after you. It was wrong; it wasn't fair. It was totally lame."

At that, Batman did actually smile, though he tried desperately to rein it in and not laugh. "I'll do whatever I can to keep Gotham and the people here safe."

"It might not be right to ask this, but can you keep an extra eye on Daddy? He's got a really dangerous job, and Mom's always worried that he'll get hurt. I told her that there's no way that'll happen, 'cause you're here to help him. Right?"

"I promise –- I'll always keep an eye on him. Your father... he's very important to me, too." Jimmy looked utterly thrilled to hear that. "I don't know what I'd do without him." Batman didn't mean to make that final admission, but it made Jimmy even happier to hear. 

"I wish that I could be here all the time. Even my sister thinks we should have stayed in Gotham, too."

"Your mother just wants you to be safe."

"I know." The boy's mouth turned down in a slightly sulking pout. "But it still sucks."

The door opened again, and Gordon appeared in the doorway. "All right, Jimmy. I'm sure there's a lot that Batman has to do. Go on inside, and I'll be in in a minute."

"Okay..." Jimmy's pout only lasted a moment before he was smiling up at Batman again. "Bye!"

Once the boy had run back inside, Gordon stepped closer to share a private word with the other man. "Thank you for coming here. You made him really happy."

"I didn't do anything."

"Yes, you did. Every day, you do so much. You've made his year. Thank you." Taking another step closer, he lowered his voice to add, "If you come back this time tomorrow, the kids will be gone, and I can properly show you my thanks."

Batman gestured for him to come nearer, and when he did, he was surprised to find himself being pulled into a kiss. It was a dangerous thing to do out in the open, but he couldn't bring himself to care until after Batman had pulled away. In the moment it took to look over his shoulder to ensure that neither of his children were watching from the door or window, Batman vanished without even so much as a breeze to herald his departure. Pointing to the vacant spot, Gordon informed it that one day, the man would be made to explain how he always managed to do that.

*****


	30. Chapter 30

~September 4~ 

_"I'm really, really sorry, Bruce. I wouldn't ask you if it weren't an emergency."_ Gordon sounded incredibly embarrassed, even through the slight static of their cell phone connection. 

"It's no big deal; don't worry about it." Wayne popped the top on a can of soda he'd taken from Gordon's refrigerator and stretched himself out on the couch. "I'm in your house, watching your cable, and drinking your soda. This isn't exactly a hardship."

_"Even so, I'm sorry I can't be there. I have no idea when I'll be back, but I promise it'll be sometime tonight, even if I have to kill someone to get there."_

"Murder involves lots of paperwork. Killing people will only slow you down further." He moved his head away from the cell phone for a moment to take sip at his root beer before adding, "Take your time, and if you're not home by dinner, I'll take the kids out somewhere nice." 

Gordon laughed. _"You're a lifesaver, a saint, and a wonderful person. I have to run, Wayne, but I'll call you as soon as I know what's going on."_

"All very true," Wayne stated modestly. "And if there are any problems, I have your number." 

Within minutes of hanging up and taking C-SPAN off mute, the doorbell rang. Getting up, Wayne moved to open the door for them. On the other side, Barbara seemed surprised to see him standing there, but the two children looked delighted. 

"Bruce!" 

"Hey, guys!" He ruffled Jimmy's hair before scooping him up under one arm as if the boy weighed nothing. "It's nice to see you two again. Did you have a good drive down?" 

Babs made a face and replied, "The traffic was killer, especially coming into the city." 

His feet kicking in the air, Jimmy added, "It wasn't as bad as the other direction, but it was backed up for forever on our side. People were honking and swearing for miles." 

A broad grin spread across Wayne's face as he asked, "Learn any cool new words?" 

"Mr Wayne!" 

Babs and Jimmy both laughed, but Wayne did his best to look properly chastised for his remark. "Yeah, so, about that. Gordon's actually stuck in that mess right now. They got a lead on a pretty big case, and there's a bunch of officers and detectives out investigating around the interstate. He asked me to come over in case you got here before he could get back." 

Barbara's face turned down in a deep frown. "Did he say how long he'd be?" 

"Oh... I'm sure he won't be more than twenty minutes. Half-hour, tops." 

She evaluated him for a moment, nodded, and turned to the children. "All right, you two, back in the car. I have an early meeting tomorrow with the contractor, and if Jim would rather work than be here with you, then we need to get heading back home." 

"No!!" Both children began a loud protest, though Jimmy had a more difficult time since he couldn't actually see his mother to pout at her as he was tucked under Wayne's arm like so much luggage. 

Setting the boy down, Wayne said again, "He asked me to come over and watch them. They'll be fine here with me until he gets back." 

"Uh-huh. You'll forgive my saying so, Mr Wayne, but _Babs_ is more mature than you are." 

"And think how nice that'll be for me when I'm fifty." He gave her a cheeky grin, but she was having none of it. "Gordon doesn't get to see them often. They only come down every few weekends. Don't punish him because somebody else decided that Friday night was a good time to dump a body somewhere." 

Finally relenting, Barbara let out a sigh and shook her head. "Fine, all right. Babs, Jimmy, go get your bags from the car." Both children let out a cheer and dashed past her out the door before she could change her mind. Once they'd gone, she turned a disapproving glare on Wayne. "I don't appreciate being made to feel the role of the wicked stepmother with my own kids. You tell Jim-- No, you know, _I'll_ tell him. If he's going to keep trying to be a parent, then he needs to be here and not send someone else to do it for him." 

"Jimmy and Babs are lucky. You and Jim might fight and live apart, but at least both of you love your kids and _can_ be there. I'd give anything to have my parents here still, even if it were just for a day, so don't expect a lot of sympathy from me. Gordon may work a lot, and yeah, he has a dangerous job, but he would move heaven and earth for his kids if one of them needed him." 

Barbara lowered her gaze, understanding his point. Wayne drew out his wallet to pull out a business card. Holding it out to her, he said, "That has my cell number. If you can't reach one of us on the house line for some reason, I always have my cell with me." 

Two hours and one crushing defeat by Babs in a game of Apples to Apples later, Wayne found himself standing in the kitchen flanked on either side by his two young charges, staring into the depths of the refrigerator. "All right, I give up. Do you guys want delivery, or do you want to go out somewhere?" 

Babs and Jimmy briefly exchanged glances, grinning, and chorused, "Out!" 

"Right. I've actually got no clue when you dad's going to be done with work, so grab your bags. We're gonna get some dinner then go back to my place until he gets back." There was a moment of silent shock before their thunderous exodus from the room, cheering and yelling back and forth between each other. Wayne had absolutely no doubt that he'd have an easier time getting through the evening if Alfred were around to make sure he didn't do anything to screw up his friend's kids. 

*****

_In elevator, there soon._ Gordon hit send on his text message as the doors closed around him. He'd gotten a text from Wayne shortly after eight o'clock, saying that he was taking the kids back to his penthouse to play until Gordon was finished. It was currently a quarter after one, and he felt dead on his feet. There was a ping from his phone, and he looked down to see a reply: _great! will tell the kids._

Gordon let out a tired sigh but forced himself to stand a little straighter before the doors could open. Once they did, there was a happy yell from within the penthouse, and the commissioner didn't have to work as hard to smile back at them as they came running over. Scooping them both up into a giant hug, he asked, "Did you two have a good time with Bruce?"

Both nodded vigorously, stating how much fun they'd had. After a moment, Babs stopped to ask, "Are you okay, Daddy?"

"I'm fine. It was just an unexpectedly long day." Two pairs of feet dangled in the air as Gordon carried them across the living room to the very inviting-looking couch. "What did the three of you get up to tonight?"

Babs leaned up to kiss his cheek before settling down beside him. "Bruce took us to Jillian's for dinner, and we played a bunch of arcade games."

"When we got back, Alfred showed us how to make a cake without a box." Rather than settling in on his other side, Jimmy crawled onto his lap and leaned against his shoulder. "And he said we could take it home with us when we leave."

"Bruce made us do all our homework while we waited for you to get home," Babs stated with a small pout on her face before brightening. "Alfred looked over my lit essay for me, so I got it done pretty quickly."

"And Bruce helped me with my science homework," Jimmy added excitedly. "He's actually really smart."

"That was nice of them. You both thanked them?" Once they had nodded dutifully, he asked, "And weren't too much trouble?"

Wayne appeared in the doorway leading further back into the apartment and said, "They weren't any trouble, though it looks like you might have found some of your own."

"You have no idea." Gordon set Jimmy to one side so that he could stretch and scrub at his face wearily. "I am _so_ glad that I don't have to go in tomorrow. As the junior-most taskmaster, Dave gets the honor of cleaning up the mess we waded through today."

"How very lucky for him. I'm sure he thanked you profusely for the privilege." The two men shared a smile at the lieutenant's expense, but then Wayne clapped his hands together loudly. "All right, soldiers! Your dad looks about ready to drop, so get back there and grab your bags so that you guys can get home." Both children saluted him in response and hustled from the room to do as they'd been told. Once they were gone, he looked down at Gordon affectionately. "Put your feet up and rest for a while. I'll make sure they get a move on."

"Take your time." He groaned loudly as he stretch again, then did as Wayne suggested and put his feet up on the coffee table in front of him. "I don't ever want to move again."

"You eaten yet? I'll have Alfred hunt you up something if you want. Relax for a few, and we'll be right back." As he left to check on Babs and Jimmy, he passed Alfred and asked him to bring Gordon some of the leftovers from the restaurant and wrap up the rest for them to take home.

In the back room where he, Jimmy, and Babs had been playing, Wayne leaned against the doorpost to observe their progress. Despite the late hour, both kids were running on youthful energy and a load of sugar, neither looking a bit tired. "Got all your homework?" he asked, trying to keep them on track.

Both dutifully checked their bags once more. "Yes!"

"Game prizes packed?

"Yup."

"Good. Alfred's packing up the rest of your cake, so what else is there... Did you manage to get to a save-point in the game?"

"The game is saved, and the computer is back on standby."

"Then you're all set."

From behind them, Alfred appeared in the doorway, holding a tray of foodstuffs. "Master Bruce?"

Wayne excused himself and moved into the hall so they could speak privately. "Something wrong?"

"Not precisely, sir. I went to inquire what Commissioner Gordon might like as a refreshment, but it seems that the day's events were too much for him." Alfred gestured behind him towards the living room. "I found him sleeping, and I wasn't sure if I ought to disturb him."

After a moment of thought, Wayne finally shook his head. "No, there's no need for him to be driving anywhere when he's half asleep."

"I could take them home, if the commissioner were willing."

"That's one idea." Turning to the other two, who were trying desperately to listen in. "How do you guys feel about a sleepover? Your dad's really beat and could use the rest."

"Are you sure it wouldn't be an imposition?"

Jimmy stared up at his sister as if she had lost her mind. Sleeping over at Bruce's penthouse versus being driven home by Alfred was a no-brainer as far as he was concerned, but Babs only shot him a look that said she knew something about manners that he didn't.

"Nah, it's fine. Alfred, if you don't mind, take the two of them to my room, then you can knock off for the night. I'll help Gordon back to the guest room." Stopping any protests before they started, he added, "I've got some meeting briefs for work to look over anyway, so I'll crash on the couch for the night with my riveting reading material."

Alfred replied obligingly, "As you wish. Shall I prepare breakfast for eight o'clock, then?"

Wayne made a sad face in response to that. He knew that Gordon was an early-riser, but that didn't mean he liked it. "Nine?" He turned to the children who nodded along agreeably. 

"Very good, sir. I'll have the dining room prepared by nine and wakeup calls at a quarter 'til."

*****

With the two kids being trundled off to bed, Wayne found himself returning to the front room with only their father left to worry about. If Gordon slept all night slumped against the arm of the sofa, he would wake up with one hell of a crick in his neck. This he knew from experience, having fallen asleep like that on multiple occasions. 

Kneeling down in front of him, he gave his friend's hand a gentle shake. "Gordon? Come on, time to get up," he whispered, leaning in a little closer to him as he spoke.

"Nnn...don't wanna go to work..." Gordon's words were slurred, and he tried to brush Wayne off his hand, though not being fully awake, he lacked the motor function to do so.

With a wide smile, Wayne gave his hand another shake. "Lucky for you, we're not going to work. Time for you to go to bed now."

Gordon's eyes squeezed shut tighter before cracking one of them open. "They ready to go?" His voice was soft and sleepy.

"No one's going home tonight. Babs and Jimmy are already in bed -- which is where you're going. Up, up."

"I don't want to be a bother. You've already done so much today." Gordon was a little more cognizant of his surroundings, enough to protest as Wayne helped him to his feet.

"It's not a bother, really. There's plenty of space here, and Alfred's missed doting on children. He's been happier all evening than I can remember seeing him in a long time." Once he had Gordon standing, Wayne still had to keep a hold on the commissioner to keep him steady. Putting an arm around Gordon's waist, he began leading the other man down the hall towards the guest bedroom. "Besides, I'd feel bad about sending you away at this hour. You may as well just wait until morning and have breakfast here with us."

As soon as he'd gotten Gordon into the bedroom, Wayne began undressing him: trench coat, suit jacket, tie. Gordon opened his eyes when he realized that his shirt was being unbuttoned. He watched with sleepy detachment as Wayne removed that as well and tossed it in the growing pile of his things, leaving him in his white undershirt. 

"Think you can handle the rest?" Wayne asked, giving Gordon's belt a suggestive tug. "Wake up call's at nine for breakfast, so... I guess I'll leave you to it." It would be good for Batman to make a few nocturnal rounds, as he had a lot of pent up frustration to work out.

Half asleep, Gordon leaned against him and nuzzled at his jaw. "Stay?" 

A little voice of conscience told Wayne it was wrong, but he couldn't say no to the man, not with Gordon's arms coming up around his waist and his face buried against the side of his neck. Daringly, Wayne reached between them to work open first Gordon's belt, then the fastenings of his trousers. Receiving no complaint or order to stop, he pushed the khaki dress pants down a few inches, enough to run his hands along the line of Gordon's waist, then down and around to leave them resting on his ass. 

"Sure you want me to?" 

He got a response that was almost a purr as Gordon nodded in agreement. Wayne led them back a couple of steps, enough to drop Gordon onto the edge of the bed, and finished stripping off the other man's pants before quickly shucking off his own jeans. After a brief fussing with the covers, Wayne crawled into bed alongside Gordon, bringing his arms up around him. 

As Batman, he had only dared to take Gordon up on his offer to stay over the one time, and it had been great. They'd had privacy, no time constraints, no armor, and he'd been masked only in darkness. Even so, he hadn't been able to stay the night; he'd had to leave before morning. He had wanted to be able to fall asleep next to Gordon and wake up there the next day, but it wasn't possible. As Bruce Wayne, though, he could do exactly that. He had wanted so badly to tell Gordon about Batman, but the commissioner had responsibilities that prevented it, and he had to respect that. Even so, he would take what he could get.

*****

The next morning, Gordon happily pressed back against the body stretched out behind him, not immediately realizing who it was. Wayne, who was still half asleep, wrapped his arms around him more tightly and fitted their bodies closer together. Gordon ran his hand along the other man's arm, absently noting that there was a lot more muscle there than he would have expected.

His touch caused Wayne to stir slightly, and he shifted to tangle their feet together. Gordon gave his hand a gentle squeeze, then drew in a sharp breath of air when Wayne murmured sleepily and kissed the back of his neck. Part of him wanted so badly for it to be Batman instead, and it wasn't at all fair to Wayne to use him as a substitute, no matter how good it felt. Gordon considered how to go about disentangling himself from the his friend's grasp but trying to slip away only got him pulled even tighter up against Wayne's chest. 

It was even harder to stick to his convictions when Wayne murmured his name, his voice low and thick from sleep. "Can't be time to get up yet," he mumbled then tilted his head to trail lazy kisses along the back of Gordon's neck. 

Gordon caved momentarily. He leaned back into the touch, lacing his fingers through Wayne's, and just closed his eyes again.

Behind him, Wayne was still trying to convince himself that he wasn't having a particularly nice dream. Somehow, he and Gordon had actually gone to sleep in the same bed, and now he wasn't being rejected. Feeling more awake now, if still a little bleary-eyed, he pushed himself up on one elbow to stare at Gordon with an intent expression. After a moment's reflection, he leaning over and pressed his lips against Gordon's. 

The kiss was slow and incredibly tender. Gordon allowed himself a moment to enjoy it, slipping a hand up to tangle in Wayne's mussed hair. He couldn't help thinking of how different it was from Batman, who was always hard and needy, always fighting for control. It was that same thought that made Gordon pull away in the end. He knew this wasn't fair to Wayne.

Backing off, he swore softly under his breath. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that."

Gordon shook his head slightly. "I wasn't looking for an apology -- I'm not sorry that you're here, and there's no harm in it." He seemed to remember having asked the other man to stay, fairly certain that hadn't been a dream.

More than anything, Wayne wanted to kiss him again, but he managed to restrain himself to just a touch, running a hand through Gordon's hair and down to the back of his neck. "You have to know how I feel about you. I didn't mean for this to happen, but I want you so much."

The earnestness in his voice made Gordon pull away, fearing that if he allowed anything else to happen, he would be taking advantage of his friend. He held up a hand to forestall another round of apologies. "It's not you, really," Gordon said. When Wayne looked at him skeptically, he added, "I'm sort of seeing someone else." 

"Oh." Wayne dropped his head onto his pillow, covering his eyes with one hand. "I've really fucked this up, haven't I?"

"You didn't do anything wrong." Gordon didn't want to admit just how good this was for his ego. "If anyone should be feeling bad, it's me. Things have been so bad between me and Barbara, but I still feel really guilty that there's this other person. I don't know if I could handle the guilt of being involved with _two_ other people." 

"I want you to know that I'm not asking anything of you. Your friendship is important to me, and--"

The rest of his words were cut off as Gordon covered Wayne's mouth with his own. Instead of words, Wayne was reduced to making soft, desirous whimpers. Gordon had only meant it to be a small kiss, but he really liked the sounds he was pulling from the other man, especially as he slipped his tongue into Wayne's mouth. Wayne's hands came up instinctively, wanting to pull Gordon closer, but he settled for clenching his fists in the material of the commissioner's undershirt.

When Gordon finally did pull away, he said, "There. Now you can stop worrying about saying you're sorry." He was smugly pleased with himself for being able to kiss Bruce Wayne into glassy-eyed speechlessness. "Come on, we should get up. If I know my kids, they're going to try to convince Mr Pennyworth to let them eat chocolate cake for breakfast."

*****


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to Hunter for keeping me sane and on-task.   
> And a fun cookie for all of you who like TAS.

~October 4~

"I really like what you've done with the place."

It was a difficult thing to admit, but it really was becoming a wonderful-looking home. Barbara had painted everything in bright and cheerful colors. Jimmy's room even had stenciled bats sponge painted in a ring around the ceiling. It was the first thing about the new house the boy had insisted on showing his father when Gordon had come up to visit the first time. Jimmy had grabbed his hand and dragged him hurriedly up the flight of stairs to his room to stand proudly amid his things. 'So I won't forget,' he had said. Across the hall, Babs had done up her room in tones of soft blue with the solar system and various constellations dominating the walls that weren't hidden behind bookshelves. 

The kitchen where he and Barbara were standing was yellow with tacky daisy print curtains, but she looked happier than he could remember seeing her in years. "Did you manage to get that leak in the bathroom fixed?" he asked, struggling to find something to say that wasn't an accusation or a desperate plea for her to return home. The idea that this place was already 'home' to her, though, was a depressing one.

"Not yet, but it's only dripping a little. I'll get to it. Things just keep coming up at work."

"Well, if it's not done next time the kids come down, I'll bring my tools with me when I drive them back up, and we'll get it fixed then." All the normal little conversations that they used to have seemed incredibly awkward now. "The kids tell me that they like their new school."

"Yeah, they've made a lot of new friends already. There are three or four houses on the street with kids about their age. I'm a little concerned about Babs, though. She's started to hang out with this group of high school boys. They seem nice enough, but--" 

"Mom!" The young girl appeared around the corner as if by magic, sensing they were talking about her. "Mike and Carlos are on the school _chess_ team; it's not like they're a couple of gangbangers." 

Gordon pulled her close and dropped a kiss on top of her head. "Don't give your mother any trouble, young lady. All right?"

"It's hard to find kids my own age to hang out with," she protested, giving him a manipulative pout as she hugged him back. "They're boring and only talk about stupid stuff. The closest I can get to an intellectual conversation is talking about what happened on the Daily Show."

"Maybe that's because they're only twelve."

She was only half-teasing when she replied, "Maybe it's because they lead the sad and unfulfilled lives of the uneducated."

"Oh, the weighty burdens of reading too much." He kissed her again before letting his daughter go. "And you can remind the boys that your father owns a gun."

"Isn't it illegal to threaten minors?" she asked, giving him another quick hug of her own before going to grab an apple from the refrigerator. "Or anyone at all for that matter."

"Technicality. Anyway, I should go. Remember what I said and behave yourself." He gave her ponytail a gentle tug as she passed by him.

"I always do. Hey, Munchkin!" She shouted out the kitchen door, causing both her parents to roll their eyes. "Dad's leaving!" There was a thunderous pounding of feet from upstairs as Jimmy ran from his room to say goodbye. "I'm going to go unpack. See you in two weeks, Dad."

She blew him a kiss, then squeezed by as Jimmy threw himself through the air at his father. With a strained groan, Gordon caught the boy and managed to pull him up into a hug while making a mental note to speak to Wayne about the way he picked up the kids and tossed them around as if they didn't weigh anything. He was just a little too old, and Jimmy was just a little too heavy to be able to catch him mid-leap any more.

"We're still coming home to see you the weekend after next, right?" It was the third time Jimmy had asked since they'd left Gotham, but he looked genuinely concerned that the answer might have changed.

"Of course you are. But until then, I need you to do all your homework, and don't give your mother too much grief -- right?"

"Right. And you'll be careful at work?" 

The stern pout on the boy's face made Gordon smile. He kissed his son's cheek before setting him down. "I promise. And you don't need to worry. There are lots of people helping me." 

Gordon turned to his wife and there was an awkward pause.

"Thanks for bringing them back," she offered, making an effort. 

"The drive can be pretty tedious; you shouldn't have to do it all by yourself."

"Be careful on the way back down."

There was another uncomfortable moment of silence before Gordon leaned forward to kiss her cheek. He ruffled Jimmy's hair before turning to show himself out. Once he'd left, Barbara turned to their son with forced cheerfulness. "So, did you have a good time?"

"It was great! Dad took me and Derek and Bobby to the History Museum to see the dinosaur exhibit, and when he burned the roast for dinner, we all went out for pizza instead." He hopped up onto one of the barstools and took a moment to think about what else had happened. "On Saturday, Bruce took me and Babs to this new comic book store that opened, and he bought each of us a reprint of this super-old comic that he used to read when he was a kid."

"That was nice of him." It struck her as incredibly odd that for the second time, her husband had left their children alone with one of his business associates. She would have to make a point of calling Gordon when he got back home to ask about it. "And did you thank _Mister_ Wayne?" she asked, trying to emphasize the proper address when speaking about an adult.

"Of course. I mean, they're only, like, two dollars an issue or something, but it was cool of him to take us out. Dad had to run to the office to sign some stuff, and Bruce thought it would be a fun way to kill an hour until he got back. I finished reading it already, and I like the hero a lot. He's really neat, but everybody talks kind of funny. Did people talk funny when you were a kid, Mom?"

"I don't think it was 'funny', but we had some different colloquialisms than people do today."

His face scrunched up at the word. "What's 'colloquism' mean?"

Barbara smiled at him and smoothed down his spiky hair from where her husband had mussed it up. "A _'colloquialism'_ is a special way of saying something that's specific to a certain group of people. People of different ages have different ways of saying the same thing. Mr Wayne would have been about your age in the late seventies or early eighties, and they definitely had their own way of saying things back then."

"The seventies? Wow. Bruce is _really_ old." Jimmy missed seeing the slightly disgusted face his mother made. "Do you think we could find more of it somewhere in town here?"

"We can look. What's the comic called?"

" _The Gray Ghost._ Bruce said it used to be a TV show, too."

"I've never heard of it, and you shouldn't be so casual with people older than you. It's not respectful."

"But he said that we could call him that." This time Jimmy saw the frown, and his eyes got wide. "He did! He said it was okay. Besides, he's not like other adults."

"How so?" Not liking the way their conversation was going, she sat down beside him at the counter and waited for him to explain.

Jimmy shrugged. "He's more like one of us. He's not always running around with a frown on his face, and he tells us stuff when we ask instead of just saying we'll understand when we're older. And he likes to do fun stuff. And he's got a really cool car. He let me sit in it."

"He did what?"

"It's red with leather seats. Dad likes it too. It can go _really_ fast."

"What _else_ did you do this weekend?" Maybe she wouldn't wait until Gordon got home before calling him to talk about what was appropriate for their children.

"Mmmmm..." Jimmy looked up to the ceiling thoughtfully, trying to think of anything else special they had done. Bruce had helped him with his homework, but that was boring. He had watched cartoons all Saturday morning, but that's what he did every weekend. "Oh! We had a pajama party Friday night."

"Jim let you and Babs have friends over to spend the night?"

"No, Dad did. I woke up 'cause they were watching TV and laughing. When I came to see what they were doing, Dad said I could watch the movie with them. Babs slept through it, though, so she missed the popcorn." He seemed to be very proud of having gotten to do something that his older sister hadn't. "There was this _huge_ shark, and these three guys were looking for it on a really small boat, but one of the guys got eaten." 

Barbara couldn't have cared less about what they were watching on late night television. The fact that Gordon was already dating and having 'pajama parties' made her mouth drop open. She had only been out of the house for a couple of months, and even worse was that he was letting their ten-year-old take part in his inappropriate activities.

As casually as possible while mad as hell at her husband, she asked, "Did you happen to catch what her name was?"

Jimmy's mouth turned down in a confused frown, and he looked up at his mother as if she'd asked him a question in Chinese instead. "Why would Dad watch TV with a girl? It was Bruce. He comes over sometimes when it's really late 'cause he says he's 'night-turnal' or something. I don't remember what came on after the movie about the shark, 'cause I think I fell asleep. It might have been something about cat people -- or it was a weird dream. Anyway, Bruce made pancakes for us in the morning while Babs and I watched cartoons."

"Does Mr Wayne come over often?" She refused to think of him as 'Bruce', and the worry she had felt for her son a moment ago was suddenly changing into something much different.

"Sometimes." He didn't like the turn the conversation had taken. His mother had gone from light-hearted to that look she got when she was trying to decide if it was him or Babs who had done something wrong. "I'm glad Dad has a friend to play with. He's all alone without us there. Batman promised to keep him safe, but that's not the same."

"So you like Mr Wayne? He doesn't make you feel uncomfortable ever?"

Jimmy shook his head slowly. He was going to have to ask his sister about what was going on, because his mom wasn't making sense any more. They had talked about strangers in school and how sometimes strangers wanted to steal kids away. Maybe that's what she was worried about? She didn't know Bruce like they did. She was never around when Bruce came over to play. 

Uncertain what to say, he asked the first question that almost always came to mind when his mother got like this. "Am I in trouble for something?"

"You? No, honey, no. I'm... just curious about your father's friend. You haven't done anything wrong."

"Then next time we go home, you should stay for a while."

A trip to Gotham might not be such a bad thing. It would give her the opportunity to catch up with some of her friends in town and find out what was really going on. "I think I might just do that."


	32. Chapter 32

~October 10~

"We need to talk."

Those words had never boded well for him. The fact that they were the first words out of his wife's mouth as she breezed in through the front door on a Thursday evening made him feel particularly uneasy. "It's nice to see you, too, dear."

"Don't play coy with me. I'm not in the mood." She looked around the apartment, half-expecting to see Wayne wander out from the kitchen or the hall leading back to the bedroom. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything?"

Having given up trying to understand the woman long ago, he moved from the door to lean against the back of the couch beside her. "Only my attempt to determine if I should order Chinese or Vietnamese delivery."

Barbara's expression turned down in a frown. "Since when do you like Vietnamese food?" 

With a small shrug, Gordon replied, "Wayne took me to this really great place a few months ago, and it's sort of grown on me since then. It's different."

"Why aren't I surprised..."

Confused, he asked slowly, "That I like Vietnamese food?"

"I don't care where he takes you, but I don't like that man trying to buy the affection of our children!"

"Bruce? Are you serious?" That made Gordon laugh, and he shook his head, still smiling. "He isn't trying to buy anything from them. He's filthy rich. If he wanted to buy their affection, Babs would have a Porsche of her own, and Jimmy would have a pony. He's gotten dinner a few times, rented a couple of movies, and bought them a comic book! I don't see what's so bad about that."

"Mm-hmm, and that's why the kids come home all the time talking about how great 'Bruce' is?"

The smile slowly faded from his face. "He's a nice guy, Barbara. Whenever he comes over, he always makes a point of including them, and they appreciate that. He treats them like they're adults."

"But they're _not_ adults, Jim. You don't think that's weird? For a man his age to have an interest in two children who are so young?"

For a moment, Gordon could only stand there, staring at her with his mouth hanging open. "What are you trying to say?"

"Nothing," she replied, her voice heavily laden with sarcasm.

"I can't decide if you honestly think that Bruce Wayne is some sort of pedophile, which means that I'm a _terrible_ judge of character, or you're saying that you think I don't pay enough attention to what goes on in my house to keep them safe, and you're just picking on him as a convenient target."

"I would never presume to say that you don't know how to keep your family safe, Commissioner."

Gordon was silent, shaking as he stood there in an attempt to control himself. A litany of hurtful comments rose in his throat, and he had to clamp his mouth shut to keep from saying any of them aloud. When he thought he was able, he asked tightly, "What would you have had me do?"

" _Leave_!" Barbara wasted no time in finding her response. "Like I asked you to do so many times. It's been almost six months. I would have thought you'd have come to your senses by now and come home."

"I _am_ home. You're the one that took the kids and left. You should have known that when you married a cop, there were going to be rough times."

"And _you_ should have had the decency to at least try to salvage our marriage instead of immediately jumping into bed with someone new." Gordon was too shocked to do more than stand by mutely and stare, but Barbara was more than happy to continue unchallenged. "Don't bother trying to deny it. Gloria already told me about how the two of you are always out together, glued at the hip, taking him out to office events."

"Stephens's _wife_ told you that I was having an affair. With Bruce Wayne." 

"Even when we were still together, you spent more time with him than you did with me." She turned to face him angrily. "You never even _tried_ to convince me to stay, not really. You just couldn't wait to get together with your little home-wrecker boytoy."

Sputtering for a retort, all Gordon could say was, "That's ridiculous!"

"Then you're saying that the two of you _aren't_ together?" When she was met with only a guilty silence, she asked, "Or that you two haven't been screwing around since before I moved out?"

"Whether you believe it or not, no, we haven't been 'screwing around' -- then _or_ now. I like being around him. Bruce makes me feel good about myself. I like who I am when I'm with him."

"But not with me?" Barbara looked on the verge of tears when her husband remained silent. Leaning back against the back of the sofa, she brought her arms up to hug herself. "You were never like this before that freak in a cape showed up."

"Good things are _finally_ starting to happen in Gotham. Can't you understand that? The bad guys are scared again, and the good guys have hope for once. And it's because of me and 'that freak in a cape.' That's not something I want to give up. I can't."

"I know you were unhappy before, but we were getting by when you were a cop. I guess I can understand losing you to Gotham; you always did love that city. But Wayne? Why him? What's so special about _him_?"

"He also thinks that Gotham isn't a lost cause. He understands when I'm too busy to be around, and he makes me feel good when we do find time to hang out together."

"Please. Bruce Wayne is a womanizing alcoholic who burned his own house down. He's a spoiled little boy who has probably never had a deep thought in his life. What is this, Jim, some sort of midlife crisis? He's twenty years younger than you! Why couldn't you have just gone out and bought a boat or a new car or something..."

"My age has nothing to do with it. I know exactly how old I am and how old he is, and I have mentioned this fact to him on more than one occasion. One of the qualities that I admire about him is that he doesn't care what anyone thinks of him. The tabloids make up all sorts of crap, and most people believe it -- because if it's in a magazine, it _must_ be true! Wayne just doesn't care enough about what others think of him to correct their misconceptions. There's a lot more to him than people think, and if you took the time to speak with him, you would see that."

"Like at the birthday party he had where his 'date' was a pair of exhibitionist lesbians?"

That gave Gordon a moment's pause. It was true, Wayne occasionally did rather ridiculous things. "I mean in his private life, not the stupid parties that he throws for show."

Barbara wiped at her eyes angrily, sniffling once as she dabbed moisture from her cheeks as well. "Why did you marry me in the first place? Were you always gay, and I was just some sort of social camouflage? Did we really have so many problems that I turned you gay? Was it me? Was I really so terrible that you switched to the other team?"

"I am _not_ sleeping with Bruce! Jesus fucking Christ, Barbara! I love you; I've always loved you. That's why I married you." He took a few tentative steps forward, and when she didn't make any threatening motions against him, he pulled her into a tight embrace. 

"I'm not really a mean person."

"I know that."

"I feel like such a bitch whenever you're around. When you're not around. You just make me so _crazy_." She curled one hand into a fist and hit him on the chest. It wasn't hard enough to hurt, but it made a very satisfactory thump. "If I came back to Gotham... If I came back, would you stop seeing Bruce Wayne?"

"Barbara–"

"I'm serious, Jim. If I came home with the kids, would you stop seeing him?"

Gordon let out a heavy sigh. "No, I wouldn't."

"I guess we both know where we stand, then."

*****

~October 28~

Wayne looked across the table at his date with a growing sense of unease. It had been nearly ten minutes since they'd placed their orders for dinner, and in that time, he couldn't remember the brunette pausing in her lengthy list of his faults to take a breath. It was almost hypnotic to listen to her. He had commitment issues, he would leave early on virtually all their dates without explanation, if they did make it to the end of a night, he wouldn't come inside her apartment, and he'd never taken her back to his place. She just didn't see this relationship going anywhere. 

"I'm having a very busy time at work right now, that's all." He was a little surprised at how easily the lies came rolling off his tongue, and it made him feel a twinge of guilt. "It's a tough time right now, economically, and you have to give it that extra attention if you want things to stay afloat."

"Oh, please, it's not work; it's another woman." 

Wayne was surprised into a moment of silence before laughing. "No way, I _promise_ , there is no other woman." He took her hand between his and brought it up to kiss. 

The puppy dog eyes he turned on her began to melt the ice in her expression, right up until the moment his cell phone rang. With a sigh, she took her hand back and leaned back in her chair. "See? This is what I mean. We've been going out now for over three weeks, but you can't even give me your full attention for one night!"

Wayne quickly checked his caller ID and saw Gordon's number glowing back up at him. "I'm sorry, but it's an important call. I'll only be a minute." He was already standing and moving away so that he could have a moment's privacy. As he passed by, he leaned down to kiss her neck. "I _promise_. Only a minute."

Once he'd managed to get further away from the tables, he asked, "Gordon, is everything all right?"

 _"Oh... yeah. Just more of the usual. A lot more of it."_ His voice was flat and hollow, even though the commissioner was trying to force a faked cheerfulness into his tone. _"Hey, it's kind of loud on your end. I'm interrupting something aren't I?"_

"Not a thing," he lied easily. "I was just grabbing a bite to eat."

_"Ah. What's this one's name again? Tiffany? Tasha? Something with a 'T'."_

"Tammi," he corrected, subtly peering around the corner at the table he'd just vacated. "But I'm really happy you called. I was in the middle of getting a non-stop lecture on what a terrible person I am. You have excellent timing."

_"Maybe if you stop talking to me and go tell her what a great woman she is, you might have better luck."_

Wayne couldn't help grinning as he replied, "But I like talking to you more."

There was a moment of silence over the line. Gordon's voice hitched as he said, _"Don't say things like that."_

"Seriously, what's wrong? Did something happen -- are you all right?"

There was a long sigh across the line. _"It's nothing a little sleep won't fix. Listen, I'm sorry I bothered you. Go back to your date and tell her I'm sorry for dragging you away."_

"Are you still at work right now?" As he spoke, Wayne was already flagging down the nearest waiter to hand over his credit card. 

Gordon hesitated before saying, _"Gerry kicked me out of the office this afternoon."_

"All right, then. I will be at your place in about thirty minutes. Less if traffic is obliging." 

There wasn't any point in arguing with Wayne once he'd made up his mind. _"I'll leave the door open for you."_

"Thanks. I'll see you soon, then."

_"Bruce?"_

"Mm-hmm?"

_"I'm really sorry to drag you away from your dinner."_

"Don't be. I'm glad you called." He closed his phone after saying goodbye once more and wondered briefly if it would be better just to sneak out the back once the young man returned with his card.

When Wayne made his way back to the table, Tammi asked without hesitating, "So what excuse is it now?"

Wayne wasn't even surprised that she knew he was leaving. The guilt must have been reflected on his face. He did feel bad for ditching her, though not badly enough to keep him from going. 

As it dawned on her that he wasn't even going to sit back down, Tammi's glare deepened. "Whatever it is, cancel it. If you want this, us, to go anywhere, you'll stay here with me."

"I can't."

"Yes, you can. It's easy." She spoke as if to a five-year-old. "You call whoever that was back and tell them that you can meet them tomorrow instead. And then we finish our nice dinner and talk about where this relationship is going. If anywhere."

Wayne sighed. "I _can't_. Tammi, I think you're a great person, and I'll understand if you decide that this relationship isn't the best thing for you. But I have to go."

"Bruce, if you walk out on me again, we're finished." Tammi looked very much as if she would like to stab him with her fork.

"I'll make sure that the maitre d' knows to call you a cab whenever you're finished," Wayne said, and made for the door.

*****

Twenty-five minutes later, Wayne was jogging from the car up the steps of Gordon's porch to knock on his door. When there was no reply, he tried the handle to find that it was unlocked as the commissioner had said. Opening it a crack, he peered inside. "Gordon?"

The man in question pushed himself up from the couch to look over at Wayne with an indiscernible expression. "You should have stayed with the blonde and told her that you were sorry for being such an unreliable jerk."

"Brunette, and I'll have you know that I'm very reliable when it counts. The way you sounded on the phone, it seemed more important for me to come over here than to stumble through the motions for another night in a string of nights before our inevitable breakup. I decided it would just be easier to cut to the chase and get it over with." 

Wayne shut the door behind him and locked it before making his way across the room to join his friend. The closer he got, the stronger the smell of alcohol became. While Wayne had pretended to sip wine and champagne all evening, the remains of a six-pack were scattered across Gordon's coffee table. 

"Why do you go out with them if you're not really interested in them?" The question was obviously a deflection, each word spoken carefully to avoid sounding quite as buzzed and tired as he really was. Even to Gordon it sounded like a weak attempt to avoid the concern and uncertainty in Wayne's gaze. 

"Oh, I'm interested in them. All the girls I go out with, they're nice people, pleasant to look at, and a good distraction." They were good distractions both for his own attention and for the media's to keep them off his true activities, but he didn't elaborate even as Gordon raised an eyebrow at him. "I'm expected to have someone like that on my arm when I go out, so I do, even if it's not necessarily what I want."

Gordon swayed slightly as he took a step closer to the other man. "What is it that you want?" 

"I'm pretty sure I've told you that before." Wayne also took a step closer and reached out to smooth down the collar of Gordon's shirt. As he did so, he let his fingers trail along Gordon's throat before drawing back his hand. "So what happened that made Detective Stephens boot you out of the office?" 

"It's kind of a long story... Funny, even, some might say." He let out a tired sigh before sinking down onto the arm of the couch before launching into what had been a truly terrible couple of weeks. "An aid from Barbara's attorney's office came by the MCU this afternoon and gave me those."

Wayne's gaze turned to follow the commissioner's gesture to the coffee table. Amid the empty and overturned beer cans was a thick stack of papers

"'Irreconcilable differences' is the term," Gordon stated, gesturing in the air with his hands to mimic quotation marks around the words. "There was an attached ultimatum that I was to leave Gotham right the fuck now and come up to Ithaca to join her and the kids in some extensive family therapy, or I needed to sign those so that we can all move on with our lives. But because she's such a good sport, she's willing to proceed with this as a no-fault divorce, mostly because she can't prove that you and I were actually having an affair -- which, I have come to learn, everyone and their brother's dog seems to assume we're having and won't hear otherwise about. Surprise!"

Wayne sat in silence for a moment, unsure whether to laugh or apologize. Ultimately, he decided that the latter was a better choice. "I really didn't think our being friends would cause this kind of trouble for you. I mean, I could see some people making noise about it politically, but I had no idea it would affect your personal life like this. I'm really sorry. Maybe... maybe we should spend a little less time together and see how that goes? I could stop coming around so often, if that would help."

"It might have, but I've already called to yell at her and tell her she's full of shit, so it's _far_ too late for that." Reaching out, he patted Wayne's shoulder affectionately. "That was about the time that Gerry came into my office, handed me my coat, and told me to take some time off from work. I need to see about getting him a raise. He really puts up with a lot from me."

"Jim--"

"No, listen to me: this is _not_ your fault. My marriage was already intensely fucked up before we even started hanging out together. Barbra's been less and less happy since my promotion from sergeant, and I've spent more nights this last year on the couch than I have in my bed, neither of which was your fault."

Except that he knew exactly how many of those nights away from his wife that Gordon had spent with Batman instead.

"When I first got out of the Academy, I had all these high aspirations. I didn't mind long hours working a beat, because I was out there helping people. Every night I went out and watched criminals buying off the other officers, judges, city officials. They would offer me envelopes filled with money, just because I was a good cop who kept his nose clean. There was a reason they kept me a sergeant for twenty years, and I hated myself more and more each day. I hated myself for thinking that if I took their money, then maybe then I could get a promotion, better hours, more time with my family. Even thinking about it was bad enough to make me feel dirty, like I'd already done it. I may not have a lot, and the hours I have to put in are ridiculous, but I'm proud of who I am again. Believe it or not, Bruce, a large part of that is because of you. You help keep me sane when I feel like just giving up."

Once again, Wayne found himself desperately wanting to tell Gordon the truth. There was no way that he could admit to the other man just how much Gordon had done for him as well without telling him about Batman, which was something that he'd been asked not to do. Unsure what to say in response, Wayne simply took another step nearer and slipped an arm around Gordon's waist. His touch wasn't rejected, though Gordon did make a soft noise as his eyes fell shut completely. "I care about you so much," he murmured, running his fingertips up and down the small of Gordon's back. "But if all you want is someone here to keep the loneliness away, I'm willing to do that, too."

"It's not fair to ask for that." His cheeks flushed as Wayne moved in closer, but he tilted his head up without hesitation to meet the other man's mouth in a slow, searching kiss. Wayne was a little disappointed that Gordon tasted so strongly of alcohol. He would probably regret anything that happened in the morning when he was again in full possession of his faculties, but Gordon's hands had a firm grip on the front of his shirt to keep him from backing away.

"I want to stay; you don't have to ask." He brushed his lips against Gordon's briefly. "As long as it's what you want."

Rather than answering, Gordon took a step away from the couch and pulled Wayne along with him. The pair walked along in silence into the bedroom, and Wayne felt incredibly awkward. He could tell that Gordon was nervous, and he had no idea what to do to put him at ease. Fumbling for something to say, he asked, "Do you have an extra pair of pajamas?"

That took Gordon by surprise. "Really? I mean, I do, but I would have thought that you would've wanted to, you know..."

Wayne flashed him a crooked smile. "There are a number of things that I want, but what you need is some sleep. God knows I could use some, too." It was hours before he usually dragged himself bruised and bleeding into bed, but maybe with a warm body in his arms, he could manage to find a few extra hours. Alfred would have been so pleased with him, both for getting some rest and for not taking advantage of his friend while somewhat intoxicated. Wayne cringed; yes, pajamas were definitely going to be necessary.

It took a few minutes of digging to find a pair of shorts big enough to fit Wayne's larger frame, and in the end, Gordon had to hand him an old GCPD t-shirt that had been stretched out from years of washings. Wayne went into the bathroom to change, neatly folding his own clothes and setting them atop the hamper before turning to stare at himself in the mirror. By no means was this the worst thing he'd ever done, not by far, but there was still a voice in the back of his mind telling him that it wasn't right to take advantage of his friend in this way. 

"There is nothing wrong with this," he informed his reflection before turning purposefully back into the bedroom.

Gordon had also changed by the time Wayne came out of the bathroom, and he was seated in the middle of the bed. His expression was once again nervous as he asked, "So how are we supposed to do this?"

"Well, for starters, you don't get the middle of the bed." Wayne climbed easily over the footboard and began crawling up the length of the mattress until he was kneeling between Gordon's legs. He couldn't keep a predatory smile from his face and was pleased when Gordon's face broke into a grin as well. Leaning forward, he pressed a quick kiss to Gordon's mouth before leaning back again. "Left or right; your choice. Now scoot." 

He couldn't explain why, but he already felt exponentially better. His mood always seemed to improve when Wayne was around, but he hadn't expected that to extend to the bedroom as well. Shifting the blankets aside, he moved over to his side of the bed and put his glasses on the nightstand. "Thank you for doing this."

"Unless you snore really loudly or roll around a lot and hog all the covers, this isn't going to be a hardship that you need to thank me for." Wayne crawled around to settle into the spot beside him. Reaching out, he settled one hand over Gordon's stomach to try to ease them into a more comfortable sleeping position, though he doubted that he'd be falling asleep any time soon. 

Fortunately, he didn't have too much trouble getting Gordon to relax. He rolled over onto his side and pressed back against Wayne's body. Bringing his arms up to wrap around him, Wayne tilted his head up to kiss Gordon's neck just behind his ear. Wayne was thrilled -- not that his friend was hurting, but that Gordon had chosen to come to him instead of waiting until the evening when he could seek comfort and affection from his alter ego. "I understand what it's like to have this sudden empty feeling in your life, but you can't let it keep you from _having_ a life. It's important to mourn, but it's also important to keep on going."

"I know all of that." Gordon clutched Wayne's hands and squeezed his eyes shut tightly. "In my head, I understand it, but that doesn't make it hurt any less to know that I'm the one who pushed them away, that it's all my own fault."

"That's what I thought, too. For years, I told myself that if I hadn't wanted to leave the theater instead of finishing the show, my parents would both be alive right now. But that wasn't my fault, and this isn't your fault either." Spooning up against him, Wayne tangled their legs together. "Babs and Jimmy are only a few hours away. It may not help any, but you can think of it as keeping them safe until Gotham's a good place to live again. It's happening right now, because of you and all the work and sacrifice you've made. And whatever you may think, you're not alone."

He could feel Gordon melt against him as he exhaled a shaking breath. "You're one of my best friends."

"And if that's all you want, then that's all I'll be. If you ever find that you want something more than that, we can see what happens as it happens."

"I don't know what I want any more." He had tried to drown away the emptiness with alcohol, and now his head was swimming. All he knew was that he was warm and content and felt inexplicably safe in Wayne's arms. Wayne murmured something else in his ear, but he was already half asleep. Yawning once more was the last thing he remembered before falling asleep in his friend's arms.

*****

When Gordon opened his eyes again, there was a mug of coffee in front of his face being waved back and forth like smelling salts. Wayne was kneeling on the floor beside the bed, smiling softly at him. "Rise and shine," he whispered in a low tone.

"You're still here." Gordon sounded both sleepy and surprised as he pushed himself up onto one elbow to take the mug being offered. It smelled wonderful. "And you're awake."

"I know, surprising, isn't it? I wanted to make sure you were okay before leaving, or if I should stay a while. Want me to whip you up some eggs or pancakes or something?"

Weakly, Gordon shook his head. "Too early for food." Leaning forward a little, he set his mug on the nightstand. Gordon only hesitated a moment before pulling him into a kiss. It was slow and sleepy, and Wayne's mouth tasted pleasantly of coffee as well.

Running his fingers through the commissioner's hair, Wayne murmured softly, "I'm glad you called me."

"Oh, God, please don't." Gordon brought a hand up to scrub at his eyes, in part to hide the embarrassment in his expression. "I still feel terrible about dragging you away from your date."

"I'm not sorry in the least." Unable to resist, Wayne added, "I would have thought that you'd call this mystery person you're seeing, though."

"I... couldn't. Well, I _could_ , but they're really not the sort to stay long."

" _They?_ " He was enjoying this a little more than he should have. "There's more than one mystery person in your life?"

" _Him_ , all right?" Batman was worth the nights alone, no matter how much he wished they could have something more. Gordon's face was bright red as he said, " _He_ doesn't tend to stay long, if at all." 

Relenting, Wayne finally admitted, "Look, it's none of my business. As long as you're happy, that's all that matters to me, even if it's someone else you're with."

"You should have stayed with whatever her name was. You deserve a real relationship with someone." Leaning over, he placed a soft kiss on the edge of Wayne's mouth. "You shouldn't have to put up with my dysfunctional life, but I'm glad you're here instead." Gordon scooted over on the bed, making room beside him. "Though, I wouldn't mind if you wanted to stay a little longer," he said, pulling the blanket back in invitation.

Pulling himself up off the floor, Wayne crawled back up onto the bed to straddle Gordon's lap. From there, he took another slow, lingering kiss before rolling over to cuddle up alongside the commissioner. Gordon's hold on him tightened, and his head dropped to Wayne's shoulder with a hum of contentment.

"I'm glad you're here with me," he repeated. 

"This is exactly where I want to be." After a moment's hesitation, Wayne tilted his head up nuzzle at Gordon's jaw. "You don't give yourself nearly enough credit. You're exactly what I want."

The slow exploration of Wayne's hands down his chest brought back the very vivid memory of Batman kneeling in front of him, sucking him off. It was beyond bizarre that two men in a matter of months had professed a desire for him. Batman, he could understand. He felt the same way. In a city of insanity and people not to be trusted, Gordon was the one there for him.

Without any preamble, Gordon blurted out, "I'm not going to stop seeing him."

Wayne's hands stilled before pulling Gordon closer to him. "I wasn't going to ask you to." 

Neither of them seemed to know what to say after that. The silence stretched until they drifted off to sleep again, in each other's arms.


	33. Chapter 33

~November 14~

Babs sat on the couch reading one of her school books, her back pressed up against her father's arm as he reviewed a folder of case notes. Gordon could tell that she had something weighty on her mind, but he didn't press her about it. The fact that she was with him instead of reading in front of the TV or nestled in her room said that she wanted to talk about it. So they sat together in a peaceful silence through several chapters of her novel until Babs finally spoke up.

"You still love Mom, don't you?"

Gordon immediately shut his case folder and set it aside. It had been five months since the separation, and both Babs and Jimmy had seemed to take everything in stride, almost as if it were an inevitable thing that just happened. Gordon had been grateful for that -- he should have known it was only a matter of time. 

Turning enough to wrap his arms around her, Gordon said, "Of course I do, honey. I love your mother very, very much. And you and Jimmy, too."

"It just really sucks that you're down here all by yourself. We should still be together -- it's not fair." She couldn't keep a sulky pout from her voice as she settled further back into her father's embrace. "If you still love each other, then we should all still _be_ together."

"Because I love your mother so much, I don't want to make her sad. She hated living here. I would rather love her while she's far away than us get mad at each other all the time with her here."

"I guess that makes sense..." Her tone didn't sound so certain. "Mom still talks about you a lot. She misses you, too. There was this one guy she saw a couple of times, but he stopped coming around."

Gordon chuckled softly and gave her a tight squeeze. "You don't sound terribly disappointed."

"Nope. He was kind of hinky-looking, you know?" She made a disgusted face and added, "He would call me 'Babsy'."

"I wish that I could be with you instead, I really do, but I need to stay here."

"I know. Things in Gotham are going to get better one day, and it's going to be because my Dad is the greatest guy in the universe." She said it with such conviction that Gordon was too choked up to do more than rest his cheek atop her head as he gave her another hug. 

"Do you think you're going to get married again?" He sputtered a little, not certain what to say in response, so Babs said, "It's not fair that you're down here all alone with no one else."

"You make it sound like I live the life of a hermit. I have friends, some good people at work, and I still get to see you and your brother a lot."

"And Bruce, too." 

"Yes, and Bruce."

"Are you not going to get married again because of Bruce?" 

Gordon found himself once again at a loss for words. "What... what would make you think that?"

"Get with the century, Dad. It's cool if that's what you want. I think it's kind of sweet that Mom would be the only woman in your life, and Bruce is a nice guy."

"Nothing hinky there?"

"I don't know. You can tell that's he's hiding _something_ , but that just might be that he's had a giant crush on you for forever."

"What do you mean 'forever'?"

"What, you didn't know? C'mon, Dad, he's totally obvious!"

It was a little irritating that a thirteen-year-old had picked up on the fact so quickly while it had taken him almost a year to figure it out. "Bruce and I aren't really seeing each other that way, but if we were, you wouldn't mind?"

"It would be a kind of weird, mostly because he's got a different Porsche for every day of the week, but you know, I mean, if he makes you happy, then that's what you should do." She paused thoughtfully for a moment. "It would _definitely_ make Christmas _totally_ awesome. You could remind him that I turn sixteen soon."

"And just what does that have to do with anything, young lady?"

"He promised to teach me to drive!" Barbara held out her hands in front of her, miming as if she were driving a car. Gordon could definitely see Wayne's influence in the way she jerked the invisible wheel about from side to side. "'Vroom', remember?"

"Did he? I'll have to remember to thank him for that."

The sarcasm in his voice wasn't lost on Babs. Turning her head, she leaned up to kiss her father's cheek before continuing. "There was something else that I was thinking about, and I wanted to know what you thought."

"Meaning you've been thinking about something your mother won't approve of. What is it and how much?"

"It's not like I want to get my tongue pierced or anything. Next August, I'm going to be starting high school, and I was thinking that I wanted to go here instead of upstate. I was wondering what you would think about that. If I stayed here with you so that I could go to school."

"You're right. You mother will hate the idea." Gordon kissed the top of her head. "I would love for you to be here with me, honey, but I'm almost never home anymore. And the schools up there are much better."

"I don't care, and that's why I wanted to wait until I was in high school. I'd be old enough to stay home by myself while you're gone. Besides, if all the good people in the city run away to 'better' places, what will be left? I never wanted to leave Gotham anyway."

"If it's what you really want, I don't mind you staying here with me, but your mother will never agree to it."

"But think about it, Dad: if I go to school here, then I can do summer learning programs at the university. If I do the summer programs, I'll be able to meet professors. If I meet the professors now, I'll be able to reference them when I apply to the prelaw program for real. If I don't have those contacts, I might never make it into college. Mom wouldn't want to tank my whole future just because of this one little detail, would she?"

"I refuse to answer that question."

"...on the grounds that it may incriminate you?" Babs teased, hopping up from the couch.

"I have no comment on that, either," Gordon retorted as his daughter walked toward the door, "but you're gonna make one hell of a good lawyer."


	34. Chapter 34

~November 26~

It would have been Gordon's first Thanksgiving alone in as long as he could remember. 

Even as a sergeant, when holidays didn't necessarily equate to time off, he and some of the other family men forced to put in overtime would pitch in together and lay out a feast for lunch break. Sometimes, Barbara would even drop in to join him. This year, however, she was hours away, and Bruce Wayne was the one standing next to him in the kitchen, helping him try to finish off an apple pie. 

"You know... everything was really good, but maybe we should have just gotten some Colonel Sanders instead." Wayne looked over his shoulder at the mountain of dirty dishes that he and Gordon had created that morning, and he grimaced at the prospect of having to clean it all up. "I'd never realized what a mess mashed potatoes and stuffing could make."

"I can't think of anyone I'd rather make a hellacious mess with."

Wayne grinned at him while holding up a forkful of filling and crust. "This is the first Thanksgiving I've shared with someone besides Alfred in, probably, twenty years." He shifted a step closer to Gordon so that their shoulders were touching as they stood there. "I'm glad you wanted me to be here with you. I'm also about twenty pounds heavier now, but still really happy."

After a moment's hesitation, Gordon reached out to wrap an arm around Wayne's waist. "Having you here with me makes me happy, too." He ducked his head, unable to meet the intensity of the gaze being leveled on him, and gave Wayne a quick squeeze of affection. "Everything always seems a better when you're around." 

In response, Wayne leaned in slowly, giving Gordon time to turn away before pressing their mouths together once, then again when the commissioner made a small noise of approval. Gentle kisses turned heated, and Gordon found himself pinned between Wayne and the high bar that separated kitchen from dining room. One hand was gripping the edge of the counter while the other was buried in Wayne's hair, encouraging him. The buttons of his shirt were half-undone before he realized that Wayne's hands were roaming along his skin. They were quickly followed by the man's mouth as his kisses trailed lower, down Gordon's throat and chest until Wayne finally sank to his knees in front of him. At that point, all sensible thought processes ceased.

Although he maintained just enough cognizant thought to wonder whether having sex with Bruce Wayne on his kitchen floor was a good idea, Gordon found that he lacked the ability to do anything about it. In open defiance of his mental faculties, his other hand now came around to run through Wayne's hair, holding the man's head in place. His best attempt at coherent speech only came out as a choked moan as Wayne worked his mouth over his stomach and moved his hands along his thighs and ass. 

Briefly, the thought flashed through Gordon's mind that it was no wonder women flocked to Wayne -- in a matter of moments, he had managed to find each sensitive spot on his body that got him hard. Once again, thinking became impossible as one of Wayne's hands moved to rub at the front of his underwear. He hadn't even realized his trousers had been opened until Wayne had cupped his erection, stroking it gently through the cotton of his briefs. It took a moment to notice through the haze of pleasure that he was being spoken to. He managed to grit out an inarticulate sound of inquiry.

Patiently repeating himself, Wayne said, "I need you to tell me if this is really what you want. Say it, and you can have anything you want -- as much as you want -- as long as you want. Just say 'yes' for me."

Gordon closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. With Wayne's hand still in his pants, it was difficult to understand what was being asked of him, let alone to find an answer. As he exhaled slowly, a flood of doubts washed over him. Did he really want Wayne to keep going? Were there even any condoms in the house? It had been a long time since Batman had stayed -- did he owe it to Batman not to be with anyone else? 

When he was only met with a lengthy silence, Wayne pulled back to look up at the other man more clearly. "Should I take that as a 'no'?" 

"No, I--" The words stuck in his throat; he didn't know what to say. "--I don't know."

Not certain how to interpret that, Wayne decided to give the man some space. He'd moved too quickly. Again. Sitting down on the cool linoleum, legs stretched out in front of him, Wayne worked to control his own breathing. If Gordon did want to continue, then he would have to close the distance between them. He watched as Gordon sank down to sit on the floor as well, his back pressed up against the doors of the cabinets built into the counter.

"I'm too old for this," he muttered, more to himself than to Wayne.

"Hardly," came Wayne's laughing reply. He tapped Gordon's foot with his own, but otherwise waited as patiently as possible to find out what the other man was thinking.

"Well, thank you for that, but I am. I'm way too old for all of this." He gestured absently around the room in general, not at Wayne. "Quickies in the kitchen aren't what I'm looking for."

"Who said I intended to be quick about it?" His face was schooled into an expression of total seriousness as he added, "Or that I had any intention of stopping in the kitchen?"

Gordon scooted across the floor to sit next to him so that he could lean against the other man. When his touch wasn't rejected, Gordon laced their fingers together even though he couldn't meet Wayne's gaze. At least he wasn't the only one sitting there with an extremely uncomfortable hard-on. As if he couldn't guess, Gordon asked anyway, "What is it that you want from this?"

Any number of 'safe' answers came to mind, funny retorts to relax the moment. Instead, he forced himself to be candid and said in an almost shaky voice, "I'm not happy with how our relationship is now. It's... ambiguous, and I'd like to either move forward or go back to somewhere with clearer boundaries."

"Where would going back put us?"

It hurt to know that Gordon felt that his quick, stolen moments with Batman were all right. He briefly wondered if the mask was more important than the man was. Letting out a small sigh of disappointment, he said, "I'd like to be able to have a physical relationship with you, but if that's not what you're interested in, then just be straight with me about it. I respect you a lot, and I still want us to be friends, even if this is all you want from me." 

The hold on his hand tightened as Gordon sat, thinking over his words. "I think I like where we are, or wherever it is that we're going. But what's the longest you've ever gone out with anyone? A few months? I don't want to be a notch. I'm too tired to put the work into something that's not going anywhere."

Wayne looked unhappy, but he couldn't deny that he had put a lot of effort into appearing that shallow. He'd simply hoped that Gordon would have been able to see past that. "That's not what I'm looking for, either. Am I really that bad?"

The expression on the commissioner's face was more teasing than accusatory as he asked, "How many different people have you dated in the last year?"

"Despite what the society column may say about me, I don't think I'm a bad person."

"I didn't mean to say that you were." He rested his head against Wayne's temple. "Shit... I'm sorry, Bruce."

"I've never made any promises to the women I've dated. Now ask me how many of them I've slept with in the last year." Gordon was silent, unable to meet his gaze as Wayne stated, "None. I've never professed to love them or have any interest in making long-term arrangements with them. You're the first person in a long time that I've been interested in sharing myself with on any level besides just the superficial. You're so amazing -- I can't help wanting to be with you."

"What about me could possibly be attractive to you?" As confusing as it was, Gordon couldn't help feeling warmed by Wayne's admission. It was a heady thing to be desired by anyone, but even more so when the person had the power and influence to get literally anything he wished. "I don't exactly seem like your type."

Wayne's face spilt into a brilliant smile which Gordon could help returning. Taking hold of Gordon's hand, Wayne brought it up to kiss his palm once before simply holding it against his chest. "What sort do you think would be more my 'type'?"

"Almost anyone except a worn-out, old cop who's twice your age."

"You're sixty?" Wayne's voice rose in surprise, and his eyes widened as he looked Gordon up and down. "Wow, I must have really been partying too hard lately to miss that. You look really good for an old guy."

Wayne laughed even as he received another jab to his bruised side. "Alright, maybe not twice your age, but I'm twenty years older than you. Why would you want someone like that?"

"Sixteen."

"Hm?"

"You're sixteen years older than me."

"And if you tried to date someone sixteen years younger than you, you'd be arrested."

"That's why I went up instead of down." 

"Seriously, Bruce. You could have your choice of anyone at all -- what can you possibly see in an old man like me?"

"You're intelligent, witty, fun, and I always have a good time when you're around." He grinned as he added, "And I think you're incredibly hot. What isn't there to like about you?"

Shaking his head, Gordon let out a soft sigh before leaning over to draw Wayne in for a gentle kiss. "I don't want to go back to where we were."

"Where does that leave us, then?" he asked softly, running the back of his hand down the length of Gordon's throat.

"I don't know, but I want you here, with me." After another slow kiss, Gordon asked, "Stay here tonight?" 

The way Wayne's face lit up into a brilliant smile made him certain that he'd said the right thing. 

Reaching out, Wayne brushed a bit of flour from Gordon's hair, left over from their earlier cooking endeavor. "How about you go grab a quick shower, and I'll clean up a little in here."

Twenty minutes later, Wayne was seated on the foot of the bed, staring at the door to the bathroom. Gordon was still in the shower, and he finally gave up on waiting. He knocked softly as he let himself in, asking, "All right in there?"

"Yeah..." Gordon leaned his forehead against the wall of the shower, trying to will away the erection he still had. 

Rather than saying anything else, Wayne opened the shower door and stepped in, still fully clothed. Too stunned to speak, Gordon's mouth just dropped open. Wayne didn't waste any time pressing up against him, working their mouths together. It was only a moment before Gordon just melted, pulling Wayne closer. 

"I was serious about my offer before, if this is something you're interested in pursuing." He put Gordon's hand over the bulge in his trousers. "You're _definitely_ what I want." 

After that, he was kissed again until Gordon pushed gently down on Wayne's shoulders until the man sank back down to his knees. The hot spray from the shower had matted Wayne's hair down, and Gordon brushed it back out of the man's eyes. A mix of nervousness and exhilaration was causing his stomach to do flips, and the intensity with which Wayne looked up at him made Gordon's breath catch. "I want you, too."

"Are you sure?" It was hard to remain patient as he waited for Gordon to reply. When he nodded his consent, Wayne didn't hesitate any longer. 

Gordon might have been embarrassed at how little work it took Wayne to have him crying out his name, but between the hot spray of water on his body and Wayne's mouth on his cock, Gordon was so utterly content that he couldn't be bothered to feel anything else. Eyes closed, he continued to run a hand through Wayne's hair, holding him close and petting his head. Gordon was pleased to find that Wayne was very patient and considerate, just letting Gordon stand there and enjoy the feeling of Wayne's hands and mouth moving along his body. 

After Gordon felt confident in his ability to be coherent again, he gave a small tug on Wayne's shirt, prompting the man to rise. Leaning forward, Gordon pressed their mouths together in a slow kiss. It was frustrating that he didn't have the same unobstructed access to Wayne's body, but the fact that Wayne was still wearing even his shoes made Gordon laugh. 

"Couldn't wait, huh?" he asked, undoing the buckle of Wayne's belt as he spoke.

"Should I have?" Wayne was grinning also as he tilted his head up to nip playfully at the other man's throat.

"It wasn't a criticism." He tilted his head back further to give the other man better access to what he was doing. "I just don't think you'll ever stop surprising me."

"'Surprising' is a good thing, though, right?" The words had barely left his mouth before Gordon had his pants unbuttoned and had dipped a hand inside. With a soft moan, he pressed his face against Gordon's neck. 

"I wouldn't want it any other way. Well, no -- there is one more thing I want." Wayne gave an inquisitive murmur that ended in a gasp as Gordon became more confident in his strokes. "I want to look at you. I want to see your face while we do this." 

Although he didn't want to lose the warmth and comfort of leaning against Gordon's body, at the same time, it was only fair. Batman was never able to stay; he couldn't even show his face. "This is what you want?" he asked in a low whisper, leaning back enough for Gordon to be able to see the hazy look of pleasure on his face. The idea that Gordon was getting off on watching him made him even more light-headed. Wayne had to reach around past Gordon to support himself by leaning against the wall of the shower.

Even as he continued, Gordon gave a thoughtful hum. "No, not quite yet. You're not there yet."

Wayne choked on a laugh of his own. "Almost there. Just don't stop what you're doing."

"That's not what I meant." Gordon tilted Wayne's head up until the other man met his gaze. "Better, but you still need to learn to let go. We're the only ones here; no one else is going to hear you."

Wayne shook his head adamantly, though he couldn't bring himself to form a coherent rebuttal.

"It's all right. Tell me what it is you really want."

Before Gordon knew what was happening, he'd been spun around and was being pinned against the tiled shower wall. Wayne pressed up against him from behind, hips rocking into him, and he could feel Wayne's cock sliding along the cleft of his ass. In the months since his first time with Batman, Gordon had never been on the receiving end of the sexual encounters, not like this. With each forward thrust of his hips, Wayne made a noise that left absolutely no question about how he felt. 

"You can, if you want to," Gordon offered softly, pressing back against him.

Wayne's body stilled, and he wrapped his arms around Gordon's waist. "I want to -- God, I want you," he murmured, nuzzling at the man's neck.

"Then it's okay."

"Not yet." Wayne pressed a kiss to one shoulder. "I need for _you_ to want it before... It doesn't matter to me how we do it, so long as I can be with you."

"Oh, really?" He squirmed back against Wayne's cock again. The choked moan Wayne let out went a long way toward making him hard again. "What if I said what I wanted was to bend you over and fuck you hard, to pound into you again and again and again?" Each word was punctuated with a jerk of his hips, rubbing Wayne off as the man fought a losing battle against his need for release. 

Turning around, Gordon met Wayne's gaze again. His eyes were glassy and unfocused, and it was clear that only an incredible amount of willpower was keeping him from moving. Reaching out, he lowered Wayne's pants further down his hips, underwear following suit so that he could have a clear, unobstructed view of the other man's straining erection. 

"As hard as you want." His words came out in a lusty growl that sent a shiver down Gordon's spine and caused a pool of heat to spread from his stomach. "You can have anything you want from me."

It was too soon for him to go another round, but he pulled Wayne even closer until he could get his hand around both their cocks and began to stroke them in unison. Getting to watch Wayne's face as he came made Gordon feel good in a way that it had been too long since he'd felt last. Watching Wayne shaking because of what he'd done, hearing his name spill from the man's lips, it all made Gordon want more. 

He nuzzled at Wayne's ear, dropping kisses along his throat and jaw. "You will stay, right?" he asked in a soft murmur, almost afraid the answer would have changed now that he'd gotten what he wanted. But when Wayne nodded an affirmative, Gordon decided to push his luck. "You know, as commissioner, I have the whole weekend off. You could just... stay." 

As much as he wanted to take some time for himself, he still had obligations as Batman that couldn't be put off forever. "I can't think of anything capable of dragging me away from here tonight," he replied before claiming another hard kiss. "I should probably make the rounds at work tomorrow, but I think I could sneak away over the weekend. Would that be all right?"

Gordon leaned up to express his approval with another kiss.

*****


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the love for Hunter who helped edit this crazy thing when I just wanted to delete my hard drive and start over.

~November 28~

After waking up on Friday with Wayne by his side, it was more difficult than usual to find himself alone the following morning. Breakfast tasted just a little bit blander without the other man's laughter and conversation to go along with it, and Gordon chastised himself for being far too old to be mooning about the house like a teenager. Setting his bowl in the sink, Gordon decided that he was going to shower and finish tidying up before Wayne got back. So naturally, the phone rang as soon as he began to lather shampoo in his hair. It was his generic ringtone, not one for the office or anyone else he knew, so he let it go to voicemail. 

As he stood under the spray, Gordon closed his eyes and pictured the way Wayne had looked on his knees. The memory of Wayne's lips and tongue moving across his body sent a shiver through him, despite the heat of the shower. The man really did have the most amazing mouth. It wasn't until the water finally ran cold that Gordon switched off the tap and stepped from the shower, hitting the speed dial to access his voicemail while he toweled off. 

"Commissioner Gordon." The voice of Alfred Pennyworth came out over the speaker of his cell phone. "It is with deep regret that I must inform you that Master Wayne must cancel his engagement with you today. He has suddenly taken ill and will not be up for a few days. Master Wayne is very apologetic for not being able to meet you, but he suggests that if you're amenable to the idea, then perhaps the day's activities could be put off until another time. Until then, he sends his fondest regards and wishes you a pleasant and restful weekend." 

Gordon stared down at the phone in his hand indecisively. It seemed strangely convenient that Wayne would get sick just when they had decided to discuss the direction that their relationship ought to take. While his first guess was that Wayne was putting him off because he had issues with commitment, Gordon still felt a stab of guilt for the assumption. Wayne wasn't the sort to lie about being sick in order to avoid a confrontation. He was always upfront and honest about what he wanted and had no qualms about breaking off the relationships that he was no longer interested in. As much as it hurt to think that Wayne would have someone else call to dismiss him, Gordon also knew it was completely unfair of him to deny the other man benefit of the doubt.

If Wayne really were ill, then he needed his rest, and he was probably concerned about Gordon picking up whatever bug he had. Of course, chances were good that he had already been exposed to whatever Wayne had, so it wouldn't hurt to go by and see how he was doing. With a full staff at his disposal, it wasn't like Wayne needed anything brought to him, but sometimes it was nice to have someone nearby. Even if he wasn't feeling up do doing much, he might like to spend the day watching cheesy movies or doing something else equally mindless. Tossing his phone onto the bed, Gordon decided to pack a small bag anyway and head over with an assortment of DVDs.

*****

Gordon didn't have any trouble getting past the guards and up to the house once he'd identified himself. Alfred had met him at the front door once Gordon made it up the steps. "I take it that you didn't get my message, Commissioner?"

"No, I did, but I was a little concerned. Wayne seemed fine earlier, so I wanted to swing by, say 'hi', make sure it wasn't serious."

"Oh, no, sir." Alfred opened the door wider and stepped aside to let the commissioner into the foyer. "He'll be up and about again in no time. Master Wayne just needs to rest for a day or two. May I take your jacket, sir? A drink, perhaps?"

"No, but thank you. Did you take him to see a doctor?"

"Aaah..." At that, Alfred stumbled for a moment as he searched for a neutral answer. "Master Wayne has a particular aversion to doctors. I've taken the liberty of medicating him to this point. Should his condition worsen, then we'll consider that sort of a step. I'll be sure to let him know that you came by and were inquiring after his health."

Able to tell a dismissal when he heard one, Gordon spoke up quickly before he could be ushered out. "Please, I need to speak with him -- just for a little while."

If the expression on Alfred's face were to be an indicator, Gordon could assume that the old butler already knew all about it, and he couldn't help wondering just how much Wayne had confided in the man. Lips drawn thin into a frown, Alfred turned behind him to look up a flight of stairs, presumably in the direction where Wayne was resting. "He has a great deal of affection for you, as you know, sir. It might be overstepping to say so, but I don't think that it would be good for his recovery to hear from you today."

"I promise I won't let him get too worked up, but I need to know what this is between us. We left things a little unclear the other day."

"Master Wayne is one of the most dedicated, loyal, and persistent men I know. If you don't feel the same about him as he does about you, then you should tell him sooner rather than later. If you want him to slow down, then you must tell him so, firmly and forthrightly." The memory of Wayne's denial regarding Miss Dawes relationship with the late district attorney prompted him to add, "Where emotional matters are concerned, Master Wayne has never been adept at interpreting subtle messages."

"I guess the trouble is that I don't know what it is that I really want." Although he was smiling, there was sadness in Gordon's eyes. "Wayne's a good friend -- one of the best I've ever had. I'm not sure I want to risk losing that. He's such a fantastic guy, but I just have this feeling that we'd end up making a mess of things in the end."

Alfred's expression softened and he turned his gaze on the small travel bag Gordon held and was fidgeting with. "We want what we want, Commissioner. Never let fear hold you back from that. Come with me; I'll see if Master Wayne is able to speak with you."

Upstairs, Gordon was led down a lengthy hall and asked to wait outside the room at the end while Alfred slipped inside. He was only gone a few minutes before he returned to tell the commissioner, "He'll see you, sir. Please try to keep him from becoming too excited; he really should rest, despite whatever he might tell you to the contrary." As he passed by, Alfred squeezed his shoulder before heading off to make himself busy elsewhere.

The door had been left ajar, presumably for his benefit, and Gordon slipped inside, knocking softly as he did so. Wayne was standing by an open closet door, having just pulled a dark t-shirt over his head as Gordon entered the dimly-lit room. Wayne shut the closet, which easily blended in with the wall. Gordon realized that it would have been hard to tell that it even existed if it hadn't been open when he'd entered. 

"Good morning -- well, afternoon, I guess. It's good to see you. Surprising, but good." Gordon hesitated in offering a greeting of his own, so Wayne forged ahead rather than letting an awkward silence settle between them. "And I'm sorry; I should have called you myself to tell you that I wouldn't be free today after all."

Although he wasn't entirely able to force himself to walk without limping, Wayne was genuinely pleased at seeing the other man there. Gordon's face, however, turned down in a deep frown as Wayne came closer. Dark bruises stood out clearly on his face as did his swollen, bloodied lip. At least that explained why the man had seemed healthy before.

Gesturing at his face, Wayne explained jokingly, "I told Alfred that I'd just tell everyone that he only hits me 'cause he loves me and how else will I learn, but he didn't think that was very funny. I'm pretty sure he slipped something in my coffee to keep me here, unconscious. I've been out like a light all morning."

This wasn't the first time that Wayne had had the crap kicked out of him, that much Gordon could tell. He was far too good at covering the fact that he was in pain. Billionaire playboys who had everything they wanted delivered to them typically didn't have much experience with suppressing physical pain. Taking a step closer to examine the man's injuries more clearly, Gordon asked, "What happened to you?"

"Nothing important. It was a stupid accident." Wayne tried to wave off the commissioner's concern with an airy smile, which Gordon thought had to hurt like hell, as his lower lip had been split open on one side. 

Curling his hand into a fist, Gordon held it up to compare to the purpling blotches along Wayne's left cheekbone. "So you 'accidentally' fell into some guy's right hook, huh?" 

Uncertain how to respond, Wayne's smile dimmed somewhat as he searched Gordon's expression for any indication of what he wanted to hear. Not knowing what else to say, he gave a small shrug and said again, "It's nothing; don't worry about it."

"I care about you a lot, Bruce, but if you want there to be anything more between us, you have to be willing to talk to me. If we can't be honest with each other, then there isn't anything more for us." He tried to wait patiently for any sort of a response, but Wayne only stood there in silence, looking as if he'd been slapped across the face. When Wayne didn't offer any sort of explanation, Gordon nodded slowly. "You should probably get some more rest. I'll just go so that you can--"

"I'm not so good at that," Wayne interrupted in a small voice, eyes lowered and shoulders hunched. "Being honest-- There are some things I can't-- Please don't go?"

"It can be hard at first, but once you get in the habit, it's pretty easy to keep up." When the other man still couldn't lift his gaze from the floor, Gordon let out a soft sigh. Giving in, he crossed the short distance between them to wrap an arm around Wayne's waist. It didn't escape his notice that Wayne flinched at the touch, despite his effort to cover the reaction. "We can start small. Come on, let's get you back into bed, and you can tell me all about what you did yesterday."

"It's stupid." Wayne genuinely seemed embarrassed rather than ashamed or angry by whatever had happened. 

"That's life. We all do stupid things," Gordon stated, guiding him back to the massive bed that dominated the majority of the opposite side of the room. First, he would get Wayne into bed, and then he would check him for additional injuries that might actually need a doctor's attention. 

Wayne gave an abbreviated chuckle as he let himself be set on the edge of the mattress. Since Gordon sat down next to him instead of leaving, he didn't mind being manipulated as much as he otherwise might have. It gave him the chance to try to fix things between them. "I didn't mean to make you upset..."

"I'm not mad at you. I just want to know what _happened_ to you." He brushed Wayne's hair back from his forehead, looking for any other injuries or signs of a concussion. "Alfred said that you're refusing to go to a doctor?"

"It's nothing serious -- I got in a fight, that's all."

"Yeah, I could tell that much." Gordon's hand slipped from the man's hair to stroke his cheek affectionately. "Did a board meeting go sour?"

"Nothing like that. Look, it was completely my fault, and it's really stupid. Can't we just let it go? Please?"

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but I would like it if you trusted me. I promise not to scold you. Much, anyway. I assume Alfred's already cornered the market on that."

Reaching out, Wayne took hold of Gordon's other hand, lacing their fingers together and holding on tightly. He couldn't bring himself to raise his eyes up to meet Gordon's, but he made himself say, "There was this woman being mugged last night. Nobody else was helping her, so I stepped in."

"And he beat the stuffing out of you for it?"

"Actually, I was doing just fine against him. It was his buddy Colonel Mustard in the alleyway with the lead pipe that I missed seeing." That was the problem with Kevlar. It was great for stopping bullets and deflecting knife strikes, but it was a bit ineffective against blunt damage. Being bashed about still hurt like hell. "Like I said, it was really stupid. I shouldn't have... It was my own fault."

Gordon felt another pang of guilt as Wayne's voice trailed off. He had tried to do a good deed, and it had gotten him seriously hurt. Although that didn't explain what he was doing on foot alone at night near dark alleys, or why he didn't file a police report about the incident. "I'd feel a lot better if we got you to a hospital to be checked out."

"I don't need a doctor; I just need to rest for a while."

Not believing him, Gordon gave his side a gentle squeeze, and Wayne wasn't fast enough to cover the sharp hiss that escaped from his throat. "The 'colonel' might have done more damage than you think. You ought to have someone look at it, maybe take a couple of x-rays."

Wayne had to bite back the urge to reassure him. Part of him wanted to just tell Gordon the truth, but at the same time, he didn't want a relationship with the man based on the fact that he was Batman. If Gordon decided that he didn't want anything more than friendship with him, that was fine, but the lines of his two lives were becoming blurred enough without always wondering which one Gordon was most interested in. 

Stubbornly, Wayne crawled away from the other man to stretch out across the giant bed. Before he could quash it, a small sigh escaped at the relief from being horizontal once again. 

Kicking off his shoes and shrugging off his jacket, Gordon rolled onto his side to stretch out alongside him. Propping himself up on one elbow so that he could look down at his friend, he slowly reached out to rest one hand on Wayne's stomach. "You said the other night that you wanted us to be something more than we have been. If you think that we can be open and honest with each other, I'm willing to try."

"There are some things about me that I'm not ready to share yet." Wayne's voice was soft and strained as he spoke. "I'm not any good at talking about myself. Before, I tried telling Rachel certain... things about me, and we only seemed to drift apart because of it."

"You don't have to tell me your whole life story all at once. If there are things you want to tell me, I can be patient until you're ready."

"I _want_ to tell you, but it's hard for me." Turning over, he buried his face against Gordon's chest and let out a heavy sigh. "When I'm with you, I almost feel like a real person again instead of this mask that everyone else sees."

Gordon rubbed his hand in a gentle circle, mindful of the man's side. "I've been thinking about this. A lot. You're a great person and an amazing friend, Bruce. I don't want to screw that up, but I think you're right. I think there could be a lot more between us that just that. I've told you before that there's someone else in my life that I care about, and that hasn't changed, but I really want to make this work between us, if you're still interested."

Leaning up to meet him, Wayne pulled Gordon down by the collar of his shirt to claim a soft kiss. Their mouths brushed across each other in gentle, lingering touches. Gordon let himself be coaxed into half-lying atop Wayne's body, though he tried to put as little of his weight as possible on him. Regardless, Wayne didn't seem to mind as he was pressing himself up against Gordon in return. The noises he was making in the back of his throat were incredibly enticing, and it wasn't until he tasted blood that Gordon pulled away sharply. 

Wayne's expression was dazed as he lied there looking up at him with a loopy smile on his face. It took a moment for him to realize what had happened, and he reached up to wipe at the red smear on Gordon's mouth. "Sorry," he murmured, running his fingertips over Gordon's lower lip affectionately.

"Me?" The commissioner looked mortified by what he'd done. "I'm not the one bleeding all over the-- Shit, Bruce, hold on, I'll get something." 

He stopped arguing and searched around for something that he could use to clean up the blood. After several minutes of frantic searching, Gordon finally found a box of tissues in the adjoining bathroom and sat holding a folded square against the injury. Wayne seemed far more amused than he had a right to be, though. "It's going to be really hard being in a relationship with you, isn't it?"

Wayne was grinning from ear to ear despite the tissue being applied to him. "That's my hope," he stated jovially. For his double entendre, he received both a groan and a poke in the side, which did wonders for removing the smile from his face. "Things worth having are rarely easy. Easy is boring."

Shaking his head, Gordon said softly, "I don't understand you at all."

"I don't, either. If you figure it out, let me know."

"I thought that was the purpose of climbing the mountain and smoking all that weed for seven years."

"Actually, what I said was that I went up a mountain in order to find myself. I never said that I _did_ find anything I was looking for." Laughing at the sternly disapproving look he was being given, Wayne felt another sharp twinge of pain as his side was jabbed again.

"All right, let me see that." Gordon made to lift the navy t-shirt up and inspect Wayne's injury, but the other man pulled away before he could. The expression he wore was uneasy, and Wayne shook his head as if asking him not to press the issue. 

"You can trust me."

"I do, but..." When Gordon showed no sign of being deterred, Wayne simply closed his eyes and let the commissioner do as he pleased.

A vicious line of purple and red extended from Wayne's abdomen up and around his rib cage, and Gordon couldn't help wincing at the sight of it. "Colonel Mustard's handiwork?" Wayne only nodded as cool hands probed his ribs. "Doesn't feel like anything's broken, but it was an amazing stroke of dumb luck if he really did wallop you with a pipe. Bet it hurts like a bitch, doesn't it?"

"It's not so bad. Probably looks worse than it is."

"You're probably hyped on a ton of painkillers and have no idea what you're talking about." With a frown still tugging at his features, Gordon traced his hand along Wayne's stomach from one side to the other where a jagged scar was beginning to fade. It couldn't have been more than a couple of years old. "Appendix?" 

It would have been so easy to say 'yes', to make up some story about being out of the country when he needed an appendectomy, and now he had a really cool scar from the shoddy stitch-job. Lying to Gordon was never as easy as it should have been, though. Partially because the commissioner had good instincts, and partially because Wayne just couldn't put his heart into it. He didn't want to lie to the man, but necessity demanded it. Unfortunately, he had hesitated too long to pull off a simple agreement with Gordon's assessment. 

"Polo is a dangerous sport?"

"Polo." Gordon could remember him saying something similar months ago after he'd been shot trying to protect Lucius Fox from hired gunmen. "Any other dangerous activities you like that I should know about?"

"I also enjoy BASE jumping and spelunking. I can take you some time if you like." 

"What I'd _like_ is to have you in one piece." Whatever this was, Wayne seemed to be so invested in keeping it a secret that even now he couldn't force himself to be open about it. Maybe it was too much to expect him to drag all his skeletons out of the closet right away, even if most of them were, as Gordon suspected, nowhere near as big a deal as Wayne thought they were. He was willing to give it a little time. Settling back down, he pressed himself up against Wayne's side and drew an arm around him to hold the other man closely. "If you can't talk to me about this now, tell me something else. Something about you; the _real_ you. If we're going to do this, I want to get to know you better."

Wayne was silent for a long time, only lying there with one hand resting atop Gordon's. His fingers stroked up and down the other man's skin as he thought. "Would, um, would you go first?"

Silence settled between them again as Gordon considered how he might respond to that. Idly, he rubbed his foot against Wayne's. Maybe he had been wrong -- the truth wasn't easy at all. "Barbara and I drifted apart because, as much as I love her, I have a duty here in Gotham that comes first. It's more important than anything else. If we're going to... you have to understand that that's just how it is. I have a responsibility to these people. They need someone they can depend on."

"I think you're the best man they could get for the job." His face lit up with a knowing smile before pulling Gordon into another kiss. "I don't believe Garcia could have found another person more diligent, dedicated, or worthy of the position."

"I can think of one, but he'd never take the job."

"More of a night-shift kind of guy?" Gordon looked slightly embarrassed, but he nodded which caused Wayne to chuckle again. "I don't think Gotham's quite _that_ far gone yet. But hey, you could always deputize him. Deputy Commissioner of Counter-Terrorism or something like that."

"Intelligence. I would definitely make him my Intelligence officer." Gordon shook his head in wonder. "He knows way too much about everything."

"And you still trust him? Crazy guy who jumps around rooftops in a bat suit doesn't scream to you of being a man out of control?"

"I trust him with my life, and in all the time he's been here, I've never seen him lose control."

Skepticism was thick in Wayne's voice as he asked, "Never?" Wayne was still kicking himself for the way he'd allowed the Joker to push him over the edge.

Gordon shook his head. "He's always been able to rein himself in. He may use a bit more extreme force than the PD, but I don't have a lot of sympathy for people corrupt enough to end up on his radar. Maybe if I'd utilized him more, then Harvey--" Gordon's voice was choked with guilt. "I should have done more."

"Jim, Harvey Dent's death was not your fault."

"It was. His and Rachel's, both were my fault. Because I didn't act, I didn't do enough."

"No! Rachel died because of that goddamned, murdering psychopath locked up in Arkham. Harvey's death wasn't your fault any more than Rachel's was mine. There wasn't anything that could be done. They both knew how dangerous their jobs were, and they knew there were potentially deadly consequences for standing up to injustice."

"But _I_ knew. I knew there were people on my team with records. I knew, and I trusted them anyway. I thought that maybe I could keep them in line, that if given a chance, they wouldn't... that maybe I could stop it..."

"If you continue getting rid of everyone on the force who's ever taken graft, kickbacks, or embezzled funds, then you're going to end up canning every other person and having to hire about a hundred thousand new rookies."

Gordon was able to give a small though slightly bitter laugh at that, and he nodded in agreement."

Silence stretched between them. Gordon was surprised by how much better he felt for having told Wayne about his insecurities. There was no logical reason for it, but the other man's assurances had a remarkably soothing effect on his nerves. In a particularly unsubtle fashion, Wayne had inched his way closer until he was practically lying in Gordon's lap, and Gordon quietly held him.

"People think they know me because every other week there's a news article about me in some gossip magazine or social column in the paper." Wayne's voice was soft as he spoke, and his gaze was unfocused and staring off into space. He felt Gordon's arms tighten around him, and he was grateful that he was being given as much time as he needed to get out what he had to say. "I've lost count of the number of girls I've taken out places or to different public events. But I'm not that guy; that's not me."

Taking pity on him, Gordon said encouragingly, "I know that it's not. I don't think anyone who's ever really talked with you could believe that it was."

"Besides my parents and Alfred, there haven't been many people that I've truly loved. All those women, I never loved them. I don't think I even knew some of their names." He paused, hating how shallow it sounded, but that had been the point. He had cultivated the perfect image of a man with virtually no moral standing. "It was expected that I have someone on my arm all the time, and I learned that the prettier the face was, the fewer questions anyone asked, but they could have been anyone. They didn't mean anything to me. I think the only girl that I ever really loved was Rachel."

That was a surprise. More than a surprise, actually. Gordon felt his jaw drop in shock at the admission. He had been friends with Rachel Dawes for years, and she had never mentioned Bruce Wayne as anything more than an acquaintance. In fact, until Wayne had returned to Gotham, she'd almost made a point of _not_ speaking about the man. "The two of you were never... You never went out. Right?"

Wayne turned his head to look up at him curiously. "We didn't, but how did you know that?"

"She was the assistant DA; we spent a lot of time together. Long nights with pots of coffee, that sort of thing. She mentioned you from time to time, but never like that."

"We agreed that we wouldn't try moving our friendship any further until I had worked through some issues. And I didn't work through them fast enough for her."

Gordon kept silent, fully aware that Rachel and Harvey had been a very serious couple for months. He'd even heard some scuttlebutt about wedding bells. It must have really hurt for Wayne to watch her with the former district attorney. A few moments passed in silence before he said, "That's a pretty short laundry list." 

Wayne smiled at the note of concern in Gordon's voice, as if it were wrong that he didn't have a slew of intimate associates. "There was one other person... but that didn't work out."

"Who was it?" He couldn't keep track of all the sexy women he'd seen posing next to Wayne on covers and television news blurbs. He had to admit a certain amount of curiosity about which one had stolen his heart.

"I don't want to talk about him."

"Have you ever talked to anyone about him?"

There was a long pause before Wayne quietly admitted that he hadn't.

"Then maybe you should. If not me, then someone you trust."

"I _do_ trust you."

"I'm a good listener."

Wayne heaved a sigh and carefully avoided meeting Gordon's gaze. "It was... For a long time, I wasn't in a very good place in my life. Henri, he found me and pulled me back from a pretty self-destructive path. We were together for several years. He was brilliant. A little abrasive, but that was only because he made no apologies for speaking his mind. He taught me so much. I thought we were going to do all sorts of things together -- change the world. All those things people think when they're young and stupid."

Gordon kept quiet and didn't mention that Wayne was only a few years older now. Rather than saying anything, he nodded attentively and let Wayne curl up against him.

"We had a fight. A big one. 'Fight' doesn't even begin to describe it." He brought one arm up to cover his face, but he made himself keep going. "It-- I found out that he'd been hiding things from me almost the entire time I'd known him. He wasn't the person that I thought he was, and I couldn't deal with it. I left and came straight back to Gotham after that. About a year later, he showed up again, literally on my doorstep. We had another fight." 

"What did the two of you fight about?"

"I can't," Wayne shook his head certainly. "I can't talk about that."

"Bruce... This has obviously been hurting you a long time. You should really let it out."

"I _can't._ " It wasn't easy to talk about Henri -- about Ra's, he corrected -- without admitting his nocturnal activities to the other man, which he had been instructed not to do.

Gordon gave another nod, not wanting to push too hard. "Do you think he'll come back to see you again?"

"No. I made it very clear that all aspects of our relationship were finished, and he left me a little parting gift, saying all our debts were settled."

"A gift?" That didn't sound good. The shifts in personality, the way he acted as if he always had to cover his words, it all screamed of an abusive relationship with an older asshole. Gordon felt an overwhelming urge to find the guy and throttle him, either before or after arresting him.

"A _birthday_ gift, you could say." Wayne shifted to turn away from him completely as he said it.

Gordon's mouth dropped. The city had been too busy wondering over the actions of Batman to pay too much attention, but it had still been highly talked about: the drunken billionaire who had burned his own mansion down on his birthday. "The fire, that was this Henri guy?"

Wayne gave a slight nod, his mouth tightening into a thin line. "But I'd rather people think that I did it after having too much champagne than to have anyone know about him. He's gone now, that's all there is to it."

"How do you know he's really gone for good? If he's the sort who would set fire to your home, then who knows what else he might do? You should have filed a complaint! Bruce, what were you thinking?"

"He's _gone_ , that's it. End of story. He won't be back. I wouldn't follow after him, so there's no reason for him to want to come see me again. I'm not the person that he wanted, and he's definitely not what I want." His voice was tight and strained as he almost begged, "Please don't ask -- I can't say any more about it."

"I'm not going to push it, Bruce, but I don't think it's good for you to hold all this inside. I hope you can tell me the whole story someday."

"It was a long time ago, and I've moved on with my life." Wayne was silent a moment before suddenly rolling them over in the giant bed so that he was lying stretched out across Gordon's body. He drew one of Gordon's legs up over his hip to make space for him to kneel between the man's thighs, grinding down against him as he rocked forward to claim another kiss. It wasn't until he had the commissioner moaning into his mouth that he backed off enough to say, "Life's too short not to try to find happiness where you can, and you, Jim Gordon, make me _very_ happy."

Shifting his weight forward again, Wayne pulled a series of soft, desirous noises from Gordon. When the commissioner made no complaints about what he was doing, Wayne leaned down to kiss him again, hard and needy, as if Gordon's mouth were more important to him than oxygen.

There was a tug at his waist, and it took Gordon a moment to realize that Wayne had unfastened his belt and was pulling it free from his trousers. Propping himself up on one elbow, he watched as Wayne's deft fingers moved from there to undo the row of buttons on his shirt, his mouth following behind, trailing a line down his chest as it was slowly uncovered. All the blood was rushing away from his head, making it hard to think as Wayne continued down his stomach, then down further to mouth at the growing bulge in the front of his pants.

"Now-- Now isn't a good time for this." It was one of the most difficult things he'd ever said, and he gave a small whimper as Wayne stopped what he was doing to look up at him curiously. "I want-- _God,_ I want you right now, but this-- I don't want to hurt you."

"You aren't going to hurt me."

"Bruce, a few minutes ago you could barely walk across the room. This can wait." 

The hand trailing down Gordon's side left jolts of electricity in its wake before slipping down his pants so that Wayne could rub languidly at his erection through his underwear. In an equally slow drawl, Wayne asked, "What did you want to do that might be potentially dangerous for a man in my delicate condition?" 

"I don't know..." Gordon could feel his face turning red as a few ideas crossed his mind, but he wasn't about to _say_ them.

"I know what I would like to do. I think I'd like to start by kissing you again, though."

Gordon's mouth opened for him easily, moaning as Wayne's tongue swept inside. The man's hand never stopped stroking him, and he couldn't keep himself from bucking up into it. 

"I suppose, if you really don't want to..." he replied mischievously as he pulled his hand out of the man's pants.

"Fucking tease--" His breathing hitched as Wayne dexterously unfastened and unzipped his trousers one-handed before reaching inside again to continue stroking him through the cotton briefs he wore.

Wayne grinned in response before dipping his head down for another kiss. "All you need to do is tell me what you want. That's all you've ever needed to do."

Gordon tucked his face against Wayne's shoulder and closed his eyes, gasping for breath. 

"Anything you want," Wayne murmured, stealing another kiss. His mouth trailed along Gordon's neck, pausing at the line of throat to suck a bruise onto Gordon's skin. 

Feeling slightly awkward, Gordon asked in a shaky voice, "You like what you see?"

"God, you have such a great body, and you look so good on your back, under me." His words sent a shiver down Gordon's spine, and Wayne paused to suck hard on his neck until he'd managed to pull a choked sob from him. "I bet you're incredibly sexy when you're dominating, though. Do you like it rough? Is that why you want to wait?"

Gordon couldn't believe they were doing this. He was so hard, and his cheeks were burning from equal parts desire and embarrassment. Swallowing hard, he managed to say, "I really want to fuck you."

"Yes, God, yes. Gordon, God, I want you to." 

Gordon squeezed his eyes shut tighter. His hand slipped an inch or two from Wayne's hip to rest on his ass. The other man didn't even try to stop the whimper forming in his throat as he rocked back again Gordon's hand. 

"Want me in you?"

"God, please, Jim." Wayne gasped and his hips jerked forward when Gordon squeezed his ass before running his fingers along the inseam of his pajama bottoms. "You feel so good."

He titled his head enough to be able to kiss Wayne's throat. It was salty, and he could feel the other man's heart racing. "Slow down. I want you to feel everything I'm doing to you. How do you want it?"

"Hard." The word came out in a low, rough growl that almost made Gordon let out a whimper of his own. 

"I don't want to hurt you." He really did want to fuck Wayne right then, and he couldn't help wondering what it would be like to have the man's mouth on him again, hot and wet. Even so, he was still afraid of exacerbating Wayne's injuries. "Maybe we shouldn't..."

He brought Gordon's hand up to his mouth to kiss. "You won't hurt me," he promised, nuzzling his face against the man's palm. "I can take whatever you can give."

For a moment, Gordon could only stare, slack-jawed as Wayne took one finger into his mouth and began performing fellatio on his hand. His cock jumped and twitched in response as he watched. He started fucking Wayne's mouth with his hand. The other man sounded on the verge of coming himself. Gordon had barely touched him, but Wayne's breathing was erratic as he clung to him, making the most desperate, needy noises.

"God, I want you to fuck me," Wayne murmured again, groping between them in an attempt to push Gordon's trousers off. 

Rather than helping him, Gordon reached out to still his hands. Instead, he hooked a leg around Wayne and rolled them over so that he could straddle his hips. Rocking forward, he pulled a gasping moan from Wayne. Somehow, he managed to work the silky pajama bottoms down enough to get a hand around Wayne's cock, stroking him in the same fast rhythm.

"You're so close, aren't you?" Wayne's eyes closed as he nodded helplessly. Gordon almost came himself as he watched Wayne teetering on the edge like he was. "If only you could see what you look like. God, Bruce..."

"If you don't fuck me soon, I'm not gonna--" 

Gordon shuddered, about to come himself. Wayne's voice ran along his nerves, as strong as any physical touch. "It's all right. Just let go and come for me."

"No, I want you--"

"I want you, too." Gordon crushed their mouths together in another hard kiss. Wayne was more than happy to oblige, kissing him back. Even when he tasted blood again, Wayne didn't protest until Gordon pulled back. "Next time," he promised, wiping at the thin line of red on Wayne's lower lip. "We can do whatever you want next time." 

After that, all it took was a few thrusts up into Gordon's fist, and Wayne's face slackened as he came. When pleasantly sated, Wayne's voice naturally deepened, similar to the one that he only heard on darkened rooftops. It was incredibly sexy. "Please, let me touch you?"

Gordon didn't know what was happening. One moment, he was fuzzily nodding his consent, the next he had already been flipped over, their places completely reversed. Gordon's legs were spread on either side of Wayne's body, the man kneeling between them. Wayne drew apart the open flaps of his trouser waist, mouthing at the bulge in his underwear, rubbing along his thighs. "You have no idea how long I've wanted you."

Gordon's hands were in Wayne's hair. It didn't take long to push him over the edge. Wayne nuzzled his cheek along Gordon; kissing him as he calmed and softened, spent. The fingers in his hair relaxed, petting him affectionately. Crawling up, Wayne stretched out beside him, very smug and proud of himself. Gordon had a loopy expression on his face as he held Wayne loosely. 

Gordon found his voice again. "I may not understand _why_ you think we're a good idea, but I'm glad you do."

After indulging in another slow kiss, Wayne let out a small growl of frustration. "I've been in bed all day," he complained, tucking his face against Gordon's shoulder to block out the light from the room. "I feel like I really ought to get up, but I'm just too damned comfortable to want to do it."

"I know what you mean." He wrapped his arms around Wayne in a loose embrace. "I don't feel like moving ever again."

"You don't have to." Almost shyly, he added, "You could stay here with me today."

"I could do that," he conceded. "Then neither of us has to go anywhere, unless we want to."

Unable to fight off a yawn, Wayne looked up at him with an apologetic grin. "I'm just gonna close my eyes for a little bit. Make sure I don't sleep too long?" 

"Take as long as you need. I'm not going anywhere," he promised, unable to keep from smiling at the sleepy expression on the other man's face. Within minutes, Wayne's grip on Gordon's waist went lax. He had to admit that it did feel pretty damned good, having the other man tucked up against his side. As Wayne's breathing evened out into a deeper sleep, it was very soothing. It was so relaxing that, for the moment, he didn't care that they were both a mess.

He ran his fingers through Wayne's hair affectionately and stroked his hand up and down the man's arm. As the sleeve of his t-shirt shifted, Gordon noticed another injury that he'd missed before. This one looked much older than the injuries from the day before. It was a jagged, pink scar, newer than the one on his side, and it didn't look any more professionally stitched than the other scar did. A wave of sadness passed through him. He cared about Wayne a great deal and wished that the other man would take his health more seriously. 

At least it made a little more sense why a man in Wayne's position would be able to shrug pain off so easily. He clearly got himself into a number of 'accidents'.  
Gordon affectionately dropped a soft kiss on the top of the man's head, his hand rubbing soft circles down Wayne's spine. Trying to be mindful of Wayne's injuries, he gingerly pushed up the navy t-shirt to sneak his hand underneath. 

The soft smile faded from his face as his fingertips were met with multiple rough patches instead of smooth skin. Numerous other injuries and scars were crisscrossing the man's back. His hand froze, resting atop one particularly large, raised scar. He had definitely felt that before. His expression was incredulous as he started down at the man wrapped around his torso. It was impossible, though; two men had never been more different.

He knew that Wayne went out of his way to hide who he really was from people, but it was ridiculous. It was stupid. It made perfect sense. 

Gordon had always assumed the two hundred pounds of muscle Wayne carried on him was for vanity's sake as opposed to function; now he could see why the man never showed off any of that muscle. Batman's nocturnal activities would explain why Wayne slept the day away like a vampire. The number of toys Batman had at his disposal had to cost a fortune, and what better way to pay for it than by inheriting literally billions of dollars?

Even after reiterating to himself how ridiculous the idea was, Gordon felt an unpleasant tightness in his stomach and a nearly uncontrollable need to shake the other man back to consciousness and demand an explanation. The room was suddenly too uncomfortable to be in any longer. 

With years of experience at coming home late and sneaking out early for work, Gordon easily extracted himself from Wayne's grip and slid from the bed. He was exhausted from work and not thinking straight any longer; that was the only explanation that made any sense. He needed to get out of the room and calm down before he did something unbelievably stupid. In his mind, Gordon could hear Wayne's laughter at being accused of being the caped vigilante that he disliked so much. 

His body moving on autopilot, Gordon softly made his way into the bathroom and shut the door quietly behind him. Turning on the sink, he dunked his entire head under the spray. No matter how many times he insisted to himself that the idea was impossible, his brain refused to let it go. It kept turning over and over the things that Wayne had told him, and he realized that Wayne had been hinting at it the whole time.

_I tried telling Rachel certain...things about me, and we only seemed to drift apart because of it._

In retrospect, Wayne had sounded like he was trying to convince himself as much as he had been trying to convince Gordon that they had not been to blame for Harvey and Rachel's deaths. What was it that the Joker had said that set Batman off? The only time Gordon had seen him out of control. 

_I thought you really were Dent. The way you threw yourself after her..._

Batman had showed up in Gotham quickly on the heels of Bruce Wayne's return stateside. Rachel had been the one Batman had entrusted with the antidote to Crane's toxin. He and Rachel had been the only people personally protected by the man. The fact that he had missed that connection while looking into Wayne's history rankled. He was really slipping if he could have a sexual relationship with one man while maintaining a close friendship with another and not notice a thing that would indicate that they were the same person. 

Unless Wayne was really a skilled sociopath, he had no right to be that perfect a liar. Only he wasn't. The man had tried to tell him, whether he was aware of it or not.

_I'm not that guy; that's not me._

Gordon had assumed that he'd just been referring to the womanizing.

_When I'm with you, I almost feel like a real person again instead of this mask that everyone else sees._

Resting his hands on the marble lip of the sink, Gordon couldn't bring himself to lift his eyes to face his reflection in the mirror. Wayne had already admitted that he had baggage that he wasn't ready to talk about; he had asked Gordon to be patient with him while he tried to find a way to say what they both needed to hear. 

Patience. It seemed like an impossible thing when all he wanted to do was to march back in there and demand answers. Wayne was probably nervous that Gordon would think that he was crazy or that he would leave him the way that Rachel had. Or more likely, he was concerned that, as police commissioner, Gordon would be put into an awkward position if he knew the truth.

Or maybe Wayne was just following orders, since Gordon had told Batman explicitly that he didn't want to know who was behind the mask.

"Shit." Gordon slapped his palms against the sink and started to take his trousers off to clean himself up. Yanking a hand towel off the ring on the wall, he scrubbed at the stain on the front of his slacks as he tried to decide what was best to do. Wayne had left after more than a decade of hating the injustice that went on in Gotham; was it really possible that he had returned as a vigilante, determined to right all the wrongs in the world one criminal at a time?

_What they don't understand, Gordon, is that when you push someone too far, when you take away everything that they care about, then there is no more fear... All you have left is billions of dollars with which to make their lives miserable._

A sudden chill went through him at the memory. What he had thought to be the angry, empty words of a man frustrated by his circumstances suddenly had a much more dangerous edge to them. Stuffing his briefs in one of the pockets of his pants, he doused the end of the towel in the sink and wiped himself off as well before heading back out into the bedroom to pilfer something clean to wear from Wayne's closet.

*****


	36. Chapter 36

~December 28~

Jimmy woke up, wide-eyed and scared -- there was someone in the house. There weren't any lights on, but he could hear footsteps. It was too late for anyone to be walking around. He tried to call for his sister, but no sound came out. He only managed a soft whisper. There was a brief stretch of silence followed by more thumping. 

They were being robbed, or someone had broken in looking for his Dad. His mind was quickly filled with crazy images of deformed murderers. Sitting up, the covers pulled up over his head, Jimmy sat there straining to hear in case someone came near his door. There were steps. Painfully slow. Thump-thump-thump -- like each step was an effort. Zombie-slow, Michael-Myers-slow, like a killer in no hurry.

Jimmy clutched his pillow even tighter once the sounds stopped. There was a ringing sound in his ears as he strained to hear something, anything. After a few more minutes, he slipped out from under the covers and tiptoed to the door. Peering around, all he saw was a length of empty hall. Jimmy sucked in several deep breaths, then made a mad dash for his sister's room.

His hands shook as he shut the door behind him -- safe! 

"Babs?" When he was met with only silence, he looked over his shoulder to see his sister still lying in bed. She hadn't noticed any of what had gone on. "Babs? You awake?"

_Oh, man, they must have got her already!_ He would turn on the light and find her lying there, headless, blood splattered all over the room. It would be best to hide under the bed until morning -- wait, he'd seen that movie. The killer was under there!

Afraid to do anything else, Jimmy sat at the foot of her bed, his feet pulled up in front of him, arms around his knees and his eyes squeezed shut. There were no more sounds coming from the rest of the house, at least. It seemed like an eternity that he sat there. His head would start to nod; then he'd think he heard a noise, and his head would jerk back up.

Eventually he gave in and moved to stand by the head of the bed. Shaking Babs's arm, he whispered, "Are you awake?"

"No. Go 'way." 

Oh, so she wasn't dead after all. That was good to know. "Can I sleep with you?"

"Go _away_ , Jimmy." 

With his heart in his throat, Jimmy did what he should have in the first place -- he dashed down the hall to his father's room. After giving the door the gentlest of taps, the boy pushed it open just enough to peek in. His dad was there, sleeping on his side facing away from the door. He slipped inside and tiptoed over to the bed, then reached out to shake his father's arm. "Daddy?"

Rather than his father, it was Wayne who rolled over sleepily to face him. "Hey, champ," Wayne said softly, pausing a moment to cover a yawn. "Something wrong? Bad dream?"

Nodding along was easier than saying that he'd been woken up by killer zombies.

"Oh." He tried desperately to remember what his dad used to do when he'd been upset, but the actual memories were hazy. He could remember that his father had always been there when he'd needed him, and he had always chased away the feelings of fear and uncertainty. "Your dad's asleep. Would you mind if I tucked you back to bed instead?"

When Wayne sat up and pushed the covers aside, Gordon stirred as well. "What's wrong?" he murmured through a yawn of his own. 

"Nightmare," he said to Gordon over his shoulder.

Jimmy said in a small voice, "I thought I heard someone in the house."

That got Wayne's attention, and he looked towards the bedroom door with a concerned expression on his face. Reaching out, he gave Gordon's shoulder a squeeze. "I'll give you two guys a minute alone, all right? Be right back."

Once Wayne had shuffled from the room, Gordon found himself acutely aware of the cold spot left behind in his absence. Pushing the comforter aside, he scooted over to pull Jimmy up onto the edge of the mattress and held him. "No one's going to hurt you here. You're safe."

Jimmy's arms flew up to wrap around his father's neck, and Gordon rocked his son, patting his back softly. "Dreams can't hurt you, no matter how real they seem. Bruce and I went to bed an hour or two ago. We tried to be quiet, but do you think that might have been what you heard?"

"Maybe." The boy gave a noncommittal shrug and continued to hold onto his father tightly.

A few minutes later, Wayne returned with a mug of warm tea, which he gave to Jimmy. "I checked all the windows and doors. All of them are shut and locked. There's nobody in here but us." Kneeling beside the bed, he put a hand on Jimmy's back and smiled up at him. "It's natural to be afraid of things. People who aren't afraid of anything are the scary ones -- usually with deep psychological issues."

"I bet Batman's not scared of anything."

Wayne let out a small laugh at the boy's certainty. "I bet you he is. There's a big difference between not being afraid and knowing how to control your fear."

"What are you scared of?"

Leaning closer, Wayne whispered in reply, "Rodents." 

It took all of Gordon will to choke back a laugh, and even Jimmy was grinning at him. "Hey! It's true. I've been scared of them since I was even younger than you are." He reached out and squeezed Jimmy's nose when the boy only laughed at his admission. "I used to be scared of heights, too, but I guess some fears are like when you're a kid and hate broccoli, then one day you just realize you don't care anymore."

"It's not that strange a thing," Gordon stated, glad that the tension was melting from his son's posture. "Your grandmother is scared to death of snakes. For two or three years, your grandpa had a rubber snake hidden in his garage. I asked him about it once, and all he would say was that you never knew when you might need such a thing. Then one day, Mom said she thought she saw a snake in the garage near the recycling. Dad took off running to 'catch' it for her, and he tossed the rubber snake at her instead. I thought she was going to kill him. He stayed over at Uncle Ray's for quite a while after that..."

"Grandpa did _that_?"

Gordon nodded in confirmation, although his son didn't look as if he believed him. "Everybody gets scared about something."

Wayne brushed Jimmy's hair back from his face. "What makes you scared?"

In a small voice, the boy replied, "Guns." _And zombies,_ he thought, but he refused to say it out loud.

"Guns are pretty scary," Wayne said, nodding in agreement. "Makes more sense than rodents, too."

"Dad, can I stay here with you tonight?"

"I don't see why not."

"You two can share the bed; I'll go crash on the couch." 

As Wayne reached past them to grab his pillow, Gordon put a hand on his arm to stop him. "Stay, there's room. You don't mind, do you, Jimmy?" He looked from Wayne, to the mug he held, to his father, then shook his head. Taking the cooling mug of tea from him, Gordon set it on the nightstand. "Right then, it's bedtime for everyone."

Wayne scooped Jimmy up, and the boy laughed as he was flown through the air to the other side of the bed. Jimmy crawled in next to his father and rolled over to face Wayne as he settled into the bed beside him. "You could tell me a bedtime story," he suggested hopefully. "That might help me sleep better."

"A bedtime story?" Wayne's eyebrows rose in surprise. "What kind of story do you want to hear?"

Jimmy's voice was soft but excited as he said, "About Batman." 

"A story about Batman..." At least he wouldn't be wanting for material on the subject. "I guess I can try, but just a warning: I've never told a bedtime story before. Don't hold it against me if it's not the best, okay?" He waited for Jimmy to settled in, wracking his brain for something that he could talk about.

"Long ago, in a country far away from Gotham, there was a young man. He had a beautiful wife who loved him a great deal, and they lived together happily for many years." 

"I thought this was going to be a story about Batman."

"It is, but I have to set it up for you, so don't interrupt." Shifting, he drew an arm up around Jimmy, who settled in against his side to listen. "One day, an evil person moved into the land, and he was jealous of the good man and his wife. He wanted the woman for his himself. Her husband tried to protect her, but despite his struggles, the evil man took her from him. The good man's heart broke with her death."

"Was Batman the one whose wife died?"

"No–"

"Was he the evil man who killed her?!"

"No!" Wayne ruffled his hair, effectively silencing him. "Batman hasn't come into the story yet. He will, but not until many years after that. The man went away to live alone for a long time, mourning the loss of the person he loved most. His heart grew cold with anger at the man who had killed his wife. He decided, one day, that he would have justice for what had happened. He would make the evil man pay for his crime. He sought the evil man for a long time, finally managing to find him and kill him. No one mourned the evil man's loss from the world, and the man thought that this made him right. He wanted to do more than that; he wanted to remove _all_ evil men from the world so that no one else would suffer the way that he had suffered."

Jimmy's face turned down in a thoughtful frown as he considered what had been said. "I guess that sort of makes sense, but it doesn't really seem right."

"That's because it's not. You see, in his pain, the good man lost sight of the difference between justice and revenge. One is a thing that makes _you_ feel good, and the other is what's right. Even revenge doesn't always feel good, though, because you usually have to hurt someone else to get it. That's what the man lost sight of. He picked a place that he thought was the most evil, the most corrupt, and he decided to destroy it. He thought that would keep bad people from hurting anyone else again."

"Oh, that's not good. This is where Batman comes in, right?"

"You got it." Wayne couldn't help grinning at how pleased Jimmy looked. "Batman learned about this man, Ra's was his name, and Batman tried to reason with him. He tried to tell Ra's that Gotham still had good people in it who were worth saving. When Ra's said that he planned to destroy Gotham anyway, the two of them fought. Batman thought that he had defeated Ra's, and he decided to go to Gotham himself, instead. He wanted to prove that the city could still rise up and be a good and decent place, despite all the corruption. But he knew he couldn't do it alone; he needed a person to help him."

"Daddy!"

"Hmm. Maybe you don't need me to tell you this story." Teasingly, he added, "It sounds like you already know it."

"No! Keep on going. I want to hear about how Daddy met Batman. Please?" Jimmy tugged on the front of Wayne's t-shirt and looked up at him hopefully. 

"How they met... Well, your dad's right there. You could ask him about it."

"Oh, no." Gordon shook his head and wrapped an arm around his son. "I like your story a lot. I wanna know what _you_ have to say about it."

"When Batman got to Gotham, he did a lot of research to find someone who was good enough and trustworthy enough to help him. He found that Jim Gordon was one of the best men in the whole city. When Batman saw how good a man your dad was, he knew that they would be able to make Gotham a better place and to stop the gangsters from wandering the streets without fear of the law." 

"What happened to the bad man who wanted to destroy Gotham?"

"Batman went to fight Ra's again. He didn't want to kill the man, knowing that it was the murder of his wife that had driven him to the state he was in, but at the same time, he couldn't let the city be destroyed. Gotham was too important to him, and so were the people in it."

"But what _happened?_ What did Batman do to stop him? Was Batman able to arrest him?"

Rather than trying to figure out how to explain what had happened, Wayne simply shrugged and replied, "Of course Batman was able to stop him just in time. You're still here, right?"

Jimmy's face was brightened by a smile from ear to ear. "That's a great story, Bruce."

Gordon leaned over to kiss his son on the head. "Feeling better now?" When Jimmy gave an enthusiastic nod, he said, "I'm glad. Now, it's time for all good little boys to go to sleep. You, too, Bruce; it is _well_ past your bedtime."

"Aw. Ten more minutes? We were just getting to the good part." Wayne tried his best to imitate the imploring, wide-eyed look that Jimmy was giving him.

"No."

"Five more minutes?"

"Sleep."

Jimmy leaned over and whispered to Wayne, "That's the voice that means, 'do what you're told.'"

"I think you're right," the man whispered back.

"G'night, Bruce. Night, Daddy."

"Good night, son."

With both men sleeping on either side of him, it was the safest he'd felt in a long time. Using his father's arm as a pillow, it was easy for Jimmy to fall back asleep between them.

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story about Jimmy's grandpa and the rubber snake? 100% true. My dad did that. He kept a rubber snake in the garage for THREE YEARS, waiting for the perfect moment. How he is still alive today, I do not know...


	37. Chapter 37

~December 31~

It was exactly 10:58 when Gordon entered the library of the manor where Wayne had said that he would be waiting. Both Jimmy and Babs had been dropped off at their respective sleepovers with friends in town, the staff was off for the evening, and even Alfred had retired to his room. There was a small picnic on the floor in front of the fireplace. An open bottle of champagne was on ice, and trays with fruit and sandwich triangles were spread out on a soft blue blanket, though none of it was as tempting as the man stretched out beside it. Kneeling between the man's legs, Gordon pulled him upright so that he could wrap his arms around Wayne.

"Good day at the office?"

"I cannot _wait_ until February 15th. Then maybe the crazies will calm down for a few months before the heat starts getting to them."

"There's nothing like a little holiday depression to bring out the best in everyone." Wayne pulled him closer to claim a quick kiss. "You're off duty now. You can spare a few hours to relax a bit, right?"

Without waiting for any sort of response, Wayne began methodically undressing the other man. First the tie, then the jacket, followed by his belt and shoes. As Wayne began unbuttoning his shirt, Gordon just closed his eyes and let out a tired sigh. "You have no idea how glad I am that you're letting us stay here. The long hours at work are a lot easier to put up with you around." 

"You're welcome to stay here whenever you want."

"Be careful, I might just take you up on that."

Wayne drew in a deep breath. It was his resolution for the new year; he was going to tell Gordon the truth. It wasn't fair, lying to him constantly, even if it were only by omission. "Gordon, I want -- I need to tell you something." As hard as he tried, he couldn't bring himself to lift his gaze to meet the other man's.

The way Wayne floundered for his words was incredibly endearing. There was only one thing he could think of that would cause the smooth-tongued man to be at such a loss, and it was important for both of them that they could build a sufficient level of trust for Wayne to tell him what he needed. "You can tell me anything."

"Not this." He held onto Gordon's arms as if to support himself, but also to keep Gordon from leaving.

Trying to be encouraging, Gordon asked, "Is it that you think if you tell me, whatever it is, that I'll be upset?"

"I would be if I were you."

"I don't think that there's anything you could tell me that would make me want to leave you."

"I killed someone." There was a moment of shocked silence. That certainly wasn't what Gordon had expected to hear. "And I tried to kill another man, but it was dumb luck that I was beaten to it by someone else."

"All right..." Gordon nodded slowly, trying to draw his thoughts together. "All right. Why don't we back up a bit, and you can tell me what it was that happened."

"Chill. Joe Chill. When he was appealing his case, he was going to get off for killing my parents just because he had been locked up with an even bigger thug. I brought a gun with me to the trial. It was so corrupt then, I was able to just walk into the courthouse with a loaded weapon. No one even looked twice at me. If Chill did get off, I wasn't going to let him walk free. But Falcone beat me to it. I stood there watching Chill bleed out on the courthouse floor, and I felt... I can't explain it. I was glad he was dead, but it felt so empty. As we were leaving the courthouse, I told Rachel what I had planned to do." Wayne gave a self-deprecating laugh as he remembered that day, and Gordon tightened his hold on the other man to show he wasn't leaving. "She slapped me and dumped me at the door of the restaurant where Falcone was doing business so that I could thank him for his help."

"That's when Falcone told you that the rich could never understand about fear?"

Wayne nodded, his head still lowered shamefully. "That's the night I left Gotham. I had to get away from the place that made me so _crazy_."

"But you didn't kill him."

"I tried. I wanted to." He pressed both hands against his eyes, both surprised and grateful when Gordon still didn't let him go. "It was dumb, stupid luck that someone else moved faster than me."

"Sometimes luck is all that separates the winners from the losers. You didn't do it -- that's what matters."

Wayne shook his head mournfully. "He wasn't the only one. I told you about Ducard, about Henri... There's a reason that I know he won't be coming back."

Gordon started to have an uncomfortable feeling about who Henri Ducard might actually be. He nestled his head against the side of Wayne's neck, kissing him softly. "What happened to him?"

"It was a -- a vehicle collision. I was there; I could have done something. I could have stopped it, helped him, _something_. Instead, I just watched him die."

"Bruce. That's not the same thing."

"Isn't it? How is not acting any different than pulling a trigger on a gun? He would still be alive today if I'd done more."

Wayne's view was taking the 'good Samaritan' ideal to an extreme. No wonder Batman had such strict rules about killing; Wayne was clearly riddled with guilt over the things he'd done in his past. Though Gordon had a feeling that the 'vehicle collision' involved a train and was more Gordon's fault than Wayne's. Regardless, he couldn't muster any sympathy for Ducard. 

"You're not guilty of anything." He leaned in to kiss the curve of Wayne's ear, shifting his hold on Wayne but not letting him go. "Sometimes dumb luck is what saves us, pulls us back from the brink. It was dumb luck that saved _my_ life."

That had gotten Wayne's attention. He titled his head up slightly, listening more intently as Gordon spoke. "When I moved to the night shift, no one wanted to work with me. I don't even want to think about how many years it was that I was stuck sitting in my various partners' cars while they went to extort protection money from the local shops and businesses. I was probably the only person in my entire squad who didn't moonlight as an enforcer for the mob, and it made the wrong people very unhappy. They didn't want to actually fire me because it was more satisfying to try to wear me down. I know that I would still be sitting in one of those car today, hating everything about my life, if it weren't for one moment of pure chance. Out of all the cops in Gotham City, more than two hundred thousand officers, I had a stapler pressed to the back of my head." The memory still made him smile.

"Batman?"

Gordon nodded. "I wasn't alone any more, and I felt like I could actually make a difference again. All because he came to me that night instead of someone else. If he hadn't, I'm sure that one day, I would have ended up either taking the money or quitting altogether. Sometimes, it's luck that makes all the difference. Luck and faith."

"But it wasn't luck. You're a good person. You're trustworthy, and you love Gotham."

"And you didn't kill Joe Chill. You may have had a gun, but when the moment came, when it counted, you weren't the one to shoot him. You can tell yourself that you didn't have a chance or that someone else beat you to it, but you had plenty of chances. You could have done it at any time in that courtroom, but you didn't. You waited, you put it off, you delayed, because Bruce Wayne isn't a killer. Just because you had the gun in your hand doesn't mean that you would have pulled the trigger. No matter what you may lead the paparazzi to believe, I know that you're a good man. I've seen lots of men buy guns out of frustration -- very few actually go through with it because most people aren't killers. I _know_ you're not."

Wayne had to take several deep breaths before he had built up the courage to reply to that. "That wasn't all of it, though."

"You can tell me." He took Wayne's hand and brought it up to his mouth to kiss. He didn't want to push it, but he was so close. "I love you, and there isn't anything that you can tell me that will make me want to run away from this."

Wayne squeezed his eyes shut even tighter. "Sometimes people act one way -- but they're not really that way, you know? I'm not really the way that I seem." Each word was painfully stumbled over, both in an attempt to explain and to stall so that he wouldn't have to actually say it. But Gordon patiently waited, not saying anything as he gave Wayne time to continue. "It's like that -- I'm that way because--"

Whatever else Wayne had to say was cut off by an insistent ringing from the pocket of Gordon's jacket, leaving Wayne open-mouthed midsentence. 

" _Shit._ That's Stephen's office line." The only thing that could have pulled his attention away at that moment was the theme from _Cops_ playing on his cell phone. 

Wayne's mouth opened and closed several times before he was able to find his voice. "Then you should answer it."

Gordon looked as if he wanted to protest, but instead, he finally gave in with a growl of frustration before diving for his jacket. If it had been anyone else, he would have ignored them in favor of listening to what Wayne had to say, but there was only one reason that Stephens would call him from work at that hour.

"Babs thought it would be fun to mess with my ringtones," he explained in an embarrassed tone as he pawed around his pockets trying to find the device to answer it. Finally finding it, he managed to flip it open to stop the song. 

"Yeah, Gordon." He listened as the person on the other end began to detail animatedly what had happened. "I can't; I'm across town right now. It'll probably be twenty or thirty minutes before I can get there. If the bomb squad arrives first, get them started. I'll call you back in fifteen for an update." 

"I told you the holidays always bring out the crazies," he said to Wayne once he'd gotten a confirmation and hung up the phone. Buttoning up his shirt and going back out into the night air was the last thing he wanted to do, especially with the way they had left things. That was the reason that he was now divorced: too many conversations left unfinished as he hurried off to work at all hours. "There's a potential suicide bomber at the Kane Building. He's claiming to be responsible for another bomb that went off ten minutes ago at Miller Harbor so that we'd know he's serious. Initial surveillance is still sketchy, and there are a lot of people in that building having the company New Year's party. All we can tell so far is that he's definitely holding something, but no one's gotten a clear view yet to see if it's a dead man's switch or if he's even got any explosives on him."

Wayne reached out to snag his hand before Gordon could stand to put his shoes back on. "Take my car, it'll be faster." It was Gordon's turn to sit there with his mouth open. He had expected at least a little disappointment that their time together had been cut short, but then again, if Wayne were the Batman, he would have an interest in getting out there quickly as well. Leaning closer, Gordon claimed a soft kiss before standing up again. "And be careful! I want you back here in one piece, Commissioner."

"I'll be back as soon as I can," he promised.

Once Gordon had hustled from the room, Wayne fell back onto the floor with a heavy sigh. Staring up at the ceiling, he said softly, "'I love you, too, Jim. I may not deserve you, but I'm grateful to have you. Oh, by the way, I'm Batman'." His hands came up to tug at his hair. "It's so easy, why can't I just _say_ it?"

He wasted a few more precious moments feeling sorry for himself before running to suit up so that he could join the police at the scene.

*****

Despite being exhausted, Gordon was incredibly pleased with himself when he returned to the mansion. The sky was tinted with the first rays of pink, and the morning rush had yet to start. He'd made good time getting home riding in Wayne's Ferrari. Batman had somehow managed to get to the scene ahead of him. It was going to be great listening to what excuse Wayne had for not being home when he returned.

As expected, the lights were all off and the mansion was silent when he let himself in. Gordon wasn't concerned about being loud and disturbing anyone. The staff's quarters were in a separate wing of the building, and everyone else was out. He tromped his way up the stairs and down the hall to the bedroom he was sharing with Wayne. He actually gave a squeak of alarm as he flicked on the light and the bed gave a groan. There was no way that Wayne could have beaten him home. There was no way that he was wrong about Wayne being Batman, either.

Gordon fumbled out an apology and switched the light back off. The lump in the bed shifted sleepily, and Wayne held out an arm invitingly. Quickly kicking off his shoes, Gordon made his way over to the bed shedding layers as he went. His overcoat, jacket, belt, and socks were all dumped in a path from the door to the bed. "Sorry. You been asleep long?"

"No." A sleepy smile brightened Wayne's face, and Gordon crawled onto the bed to kiss him softly. His hair was wet, and he smelled of soap. As he stroked back wet strands of hair, Gordon wondered idly how hard it was to get off the greasepaint. 

"Sorry I had to run off like that."

Wayne shrugged then replied, "It's all right. Crime doesn't stop just because you're off the clock."

"The misery of being salary. Would you be willing to start the evening over?" Even as he asked, Gordon leaned down to kiss him soundly. Wayne made a series of pleased, sleepy sounds as Gordon's hands traveled along his body.

Wayne gave a tug at Gordon's shirt. "May I?" When Gordon nodded, Wayne sat up and began diligently unfastening the line of buttons one by one. A hand slipped between the parts in his shirt, fingers trailing along Gordon's chest. One shoulder at a time, he slipped the fabric off and just sat starring at the other man's body. The flat of his hand slid down to Gordon's stomach and around his side to pull him into a loose hug. "I know that I have a lot of issues. Thank you for being so patient with me."

"We can go at whatever pace you need. If you're not ready to talk to me about it... Whatever it is, it can wait."

Wayne pressed a kiss to his shoulder. "I don't deserve you."

Gordon paused a moment, dozens of counters coming to mind. Instead, he slid off the bed and began to take his trousers off. Once that was accomplished, he crawled back into bed under the warm sheets. Kneeling beside Wayne, he tapped his hips before taking hold of the waistband of Wayne's pajama bottoms. "Lift." There was only a moment of hesitation before Wayne did as he was told. Another tug followed, this time on the shirt he wore. "Off."

Even in the dim light coming in from the windows, Gordon could see nervous uncertainty on Wayne's face. Authoritatively, he gave the shirt another tug and said, " _Off_ ," then promptly turned around and settled in on his side with his back to Wayne. A flutter of material and a slight shift of the mattress said that Wayne had done as he was told. Uncertainly, Wayne settled down beside him, spooning up against Gordon's body.

Gordon reached behind him to grab Wayne's hand and bring it around to rest on his stomach. He leaned back against Wayne's body and gave a low moan of pleasure as Wayne's hand traveled lower.

"I thought you wanted to wait for the kids to go back to Ithaca before we did anything more," he questioned, his hand hovering just above Gordon's cock.

"Well, they're not here now, are they?" Even as he spoke, he was moving Wayne's hand lower. His fingers curled around him, moving slowly up and down his length. "Besides, not every intimate act has to end in sex."

Wayne's hand stalled mid-motion, and he nuzzled the back of Gordon's neck. "Good. 'Cause I like touching you."

"I like you touching me, too." He wriggled back against Wayne, pulling a desirous groan from him. "Though if you really want to, we can."

It was such a difficult decision to make. In the end, Wayne let out a sad little sigh and brought both arms up around Gordon. "I'm really tired. It would be more fun to wait until we're both not about to pass out." He didn't entirely sound convinced, but Gordon nodded in agreement. 

Wayne gave one more small grumble about the unfairness of life before settling in fully to sleep. "I love you, too," he murmured softly, finally able to reply as he should have hours ago.

*****


	38. Chapter 38

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Winter Hols to everyone :) Sorry this took so long! Sickness and sitting exams both attempted to do me in, but I've got another update for you: the antepenultimate chapter. Hope you all enjoy.

~January 10~

Gordon had to admit that one site he never thought that he would see in his life was Bruce Wayne on his hands and knees in four inches of snow, harnessed to a sled like a small, extremely wealthy pony. The laughing ten-year-old and thirteen-year-old on the sled behind him didn't seem to appreciate the wonder of the situation; they were too busy tugging at the reins and having a grand time to consider the oddity that was occurring. Alfred stood beside him, and the pair of them had been watching the three youngsters running amok for some time now.

"Just watching them makes me tired," Gordon stated blandly before sipping from the mug of coffee in his hands.

"Master Wayne's very lucky to have found such a good friend in you. He missed out on most of his childhood. I think that this is all that pent-up energy finally getting to be spent." Mischievously, he added, "Soon enough, he'll be old and broken like the rest of us."

Gordon nodded along. "He'd better hurry up, then, 'cause that looks exhausting."

"And cold," replied Alfred in agreement. "They must be soaked through by now."

"God, they make me feel old..." Gordon could feel an amused gaze from Alfred leveled on him. "Um... Sorry."

"No, I can appreciate the sentiment. Master Wayne has been making me feel old for a very long time."

Briefly, the commissioner wondered how old the butler really was. Physically, he looked almost exactly the same as he had when he'd come to the police station to pick up the young Wayne heir more than twenty years ago. Setting his mug on the concrete at his feet, Gordon moved to join the others. "Thanks for the pick-me-up, Mr Pennyworth, I appreciate it." 

"You're quite welcome, sir." Retrieving the mug, Alfred watched a few moments longer as the commissioner trudged through the snow to catch up with the others. Babs and Jimmy waved at their father as he came up behind them, but their 'pony' was too busy trying to keep them in motion to acknowledge his approach. Gordon couldn't keep himself from smiling as he squeezed onto the sled between his children, causing Wayne to go face-first into the snow as the sled came to a sudden halt from the extra weight. Chuckling to himself, Alfred turned and climbed the stairs to go back inside. 

Once settled on the sled, Gordon wrapped his arms around his daughter's waist. "Mush!" 

In complete agreement, Barbara gave the 'reins' they had fashioned a small shake to signify that their pony should start up again. For his part, though, Wayne was laughing almost too hard to kneel upright, but he surprised Gordon when he was able to get them moving again with only marginal difficulty. After a few more turns about the yard, however, their pony mysteriously fell lame and collapsed in the snow, declaring himself to be dead. 

The remainder of the afternoon was spent in attempting to outdo each other in building snowmen. Jimmy and Gordon faced off against Wayne and Babs in their efforts to cover the front lawn of the manor with a small army of snow people. Men, women, heroes, and villains of various sized balls of snow were everywhere. What would have been a pristine field with acres of untouched beautiful scenery was now marred by zigzagging furrows and trails of footprints. 

"I don't think the place has ever looked better," Wayne stated once Gordon had decided that it was too dark for them to remain outside any longer. Slinging an arm around Gordon's waist, he pulled the sled back to the house as the two kids trailed along behind them, throwing handfuls of snow at each other. "Thanks for coming over." 

Gordon couldn't help tensing at the gesture. He still wasn't entirely comfortable with them being affectionate in public yet, but the children didn't even seem to notice as they each attempted to stuff snow down the other's coat. "Thank you for inviting us. We had a really good time." 

"You're always welcome here." He took a step closer to Gordon as they walked in order to bump shoulders with him. "This place doesn't get enough use. It's good to see it being enjoyed by someone."

Like magic, Alfred was there at the door when they trudged in, a large silver tray in hand. "While it's customary to water and groom your horse after a ride, I thought perhaps the riders would enjoy a hot chocolate after their romp?"

Both children turned hopefully to their father, and when Gordon nodded his approval, the mugs of cocoa were descended upon gratefully. Leaning down, Wayne whispered to them in a soft, conspiring tone. "He keeps the condensed milk on the top shelf of the cupboard in the kitchen. Just so you know."

"Master Bruce!" Alfred looked to his friend and employer with a scandalized expression. Sternly, he said, "You and Miss Dawes pilfered enough cream in your day for a dozen children. You should set a better example. Now children, if you'll kindly remove your boots and follow me, I've made some hot crumpets you might enjoy to go along with your chocolate."

"Only one," Gordon called after them. "Your mother will be arriving before too long to take you home, and you still need to pack your things."

"Never fear, sir." Alfred tucked the emptied tray under his arm to put a hand on Jimmy and Babs's backs and steered them towards the kitchen. "And while you're perking up with a small snack, I can tell you a story or two about Master Wayne when he was your age. It's good to learn from the mistakes of elders and not to cause as much trouble as he."

Wayne rolled his eyes, knowing that had been said for his benefit more than for the amusement of the two kids who followed along trying not to giggle too loudly into their mugs. Left alone, he and Gordon slowly set about removing their own snow-soaked boots. 

"Alfred's amazing," Gordon remarked as he wriggled out of the overcoat and heavy sweater he'd put on before going outside.

"I honestly don't know what I'd do without him." In a childish impulse, Wayne smiled devilishly before dumping his things in a careless heap on the floor in favor of wrapping his arms around Gordon's body. His long arms were still warm despite wading through so much snow. Wayne ran his hand through Gordon's hair, grinning at the way it stuck up all wet and messy. Once the commissioner let out a small murmur of approval, Wayne was pulling him into a kiss.

The lips on his felt good, warming the chill in his body. Wayne nudged his mouth open, exploring as his hands moved along Gordon's chest, throat, and face. Gordon kissed him back, hard, both of them vying for control. Wayne was the first to back down, allowing Gordon a last, lingering kiss before pulling away enough to rest his cheek against Gordon's, holding him in a loose embrace. 

"After Barbara picks up the kids, would you want to stay?" His hand slid down Gordon's back to rest on his ass suggestively. Despite his sure touch, Wayne couldn't raise his gaze to meet Gordon's, nervous about what his answer might be. Outwardly, Wayne was the most confident and self-assured man he'd ever met, and Gordon thought it was endearing that he was as worried about rejection as any other person would be. 

Gordon let his head drop to rest against Wayne's. Life had become so complicated recently: he had inappropriate thoughts about giant bats, and he was interested in an emotionally conflicted playboy. "You deserve something better than an old cop with mixed feelings."

"I think that I have something worth a lot more than you give credit for." He kissed along Gordon's throat, the slight scrape of stubble causing Gordon to shiver in his arms. With a hum of approval, Gordon let his head drop back limply against Wayne's chest. Nuzzling at his ear, Wayne murmured, "One day, I'll make you see that."

"There's a saying about pots and kettles, Mr Wayne." Hot breath blew across his neck as Wayne chuckled. Gordon turned in his arms to face him. "Bruce Wayne is a better person than _you_ give him credit for. And no, I wouldn't mind staying." That won him a pleased look from the other man, Wayne's face breaking out into a brilliant smile. Feeling bold, Gordon took Wayne's face between his hands to pull him in for another kiss before grazing his teeth along Wayne's jaw to murmur into his ear, "In fact, I think you'd look amazing on your knees for me. I think I'd like to hang around and find out if I'm right."

The grip Wayne had on his arm was almost painful as the younger man let out a soft groan of want. "I don't wanna to wait 'til later," he growled, pressing himself up hard against Gordon's body.

"Not while the kids are here."

"I know..." Wayne managed to pull himself together, running a hand through his own damp hair but only managing to mess it further. "I understand how hard it is for you every time they have to leave, but I _definitely_ don't mind the idea of having you all to myself for a little while."

Gordon brought his own arms up to hold him in return. "You know, staying over at your place isn't terribly conducive to my getting to work on time in the morning. If you want me staying over in the future, maybe I should just leave a few things here so that I won't have to go home before heading into the office." As far as excuses went, it was a fairly lame one, considering that they both knew he set his own hours, but even so, he couldn't help being anxious about how Wayne would react.

A moment passed in tense silence before Wayne said slowly, "I would hate to inconvenience you with a long drive. Maybe it _would_ be best if you left a few things over. If you're sure you wouldn't mind."

"I know how much you value your privacy."

"Well, then I guess it's a good thing that I value you more."

*****


	39. Chapter 39

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lo, a ChristmaHannaKwanzaYule Miracle: the penultimate chapter as well. ^_~ I'll try to kick out the last chapter soon, but my beta has run off for the holiday with her family. Hum ho. 
> 
> Also, I know it's been a while, so if you find yourself in need of a refresher, I included the bit of conversation Alfred refers to (chapter 26) in a note at the end.

~January 16~

Gordon gazed around the crime scene, his hands stuffed in his pockets and his shoulders hunched against the cold wind. Forensics had already come and gone, their evidence collected, and it would be well into the next day before they delivered any results. Across the cordoned-off parking lot, Montoya and Bullock were taking statements from the witnesses. The only other person left on the scene was standing off in the shadows waiting for Gordon to finish. After saying a quick farewell to his officers, Gordon moved as stealthily as he could to duck into the alley where Batman was lurking.

"Thanks for tying those two up for us; it certainly makes our jobs a lot easier when the perps come gift-wrapped like that. With luck, one of them will be willing to cut a deal in exchange for info on their boss." Gordon fell silent and looked over his shoulder as one of the patrol cars drove past their hiding place. When he was sure that they hadn't been spotted, he turned back to Batman. 

"We can't talk here. Come with me for a minute?" The man had pulled out the mechanized grappling hook that Gordon had seen him use on occasion and fired it at the rooftop. Once he'd assured himself that it was tightly secured to his suit, Batman held a hand out to him. Despite the somewhat skeptical expression on his face, the commissioner returned the gesture and allowed himself to be pulled tight up against the other man's body.

The pair of them rose through the air at a sickening speed, twirling slightly as the cable pulled them up to the top of the four-story warehouse. "That's a terrible way to travel," Gordon stated weakly after Batman had pulled him up over the lip of the roof's ledge. "I don't know how you do it."

"You get used to it." He drew them further away from the ledge so that no one lingering below would be able to see them.

Following along behind him, Gordon asked, "What is it that you needed to tell me that you couldn't say down there?"

The words had barely left his mouth before Batman had once again pulled their bodies together, drawing Gordon in for a hard kiss. After a moment, he pulled back just enough to let out a shaky sigh. "We have to stop. This-- It's a terrible idea."

What was said and the mouth nuzzling at his ear sent Gordon two very different messages, utterly confusing him. "Stop what?"

" _This._ Us." Batman's eyes slipped shut, and his voice was strained as he added, "You can't actually want this for yourself."

It was clear that Batman was holding himself back. The man obviously wanted more despite his words, and a small push was probably all it would take to get him to do anything Gordon wanted. On the other hand, something was causing him to check his actions, though he couldn't imagine what. "I'm willing to do what I have to."

"Skulking around at night, always hoping that no one sees you." One armored hand came up gently stroke Gordon's cheek. "That's no life. That can't be what you want."

"You _are_ what I want. I love you."

"No." Batman pushed him back, but there was no strength, no feeling behind it.

"Yes, you are. All of you. The good, the bad... the slightly neurotic." He ran a finger along one pointy ear of the bat suit while smiling up at the other man. "With you, I don't feel so alone. I can always depend on you, I can always trust you."

"And you never have to worry about that. Even though this can't keep going on, I will _always_ be there for you and for Gotham. But this... This isn't what _I_ want; I don't see how you could possibly want it."

Gordon felt like he'd been slapped, and it must have shown clearly on his face because he couldn't remember having ever seen Batman look so guilty.

"What you and I have, this isn't what I want," Batman repeated, floundering for words. Much more a man of action than rhetoric, it was difficult for him to explain what he was feeling. "You should have someone who doesn't have to hide his face in shadows, someone who won't cause you to be investigated by Internal Affairs, someone--"

Gordon had to thrust himself up on his toes to be able to reach in order to silence Batman with a kiss. "I don't care about any of that," he said slowly and emphatically once he'd stopped the other man's protests.

"You should." He didn't move to break Gordon's hold on him, and his resolve weakened until he pulled Gordon closer for a third kiss. Finally, Batman was able to force himself to step away. "I'll always be nearby. Just not like this anymore."

"Wait -- let's at least _talk_ about this."

"There's nothing left to talk about." With that said, Batman ran and jumped from the rooftop, leaving the commissioner dumbfounded with four flights of fire escape to climb down in order to get back to the ground and his car.

*****

"Commissioner Gordon, a pleasure as always to see you, sir, but I'm afraid that you're several hours too early if you would like to speak with Master Wayne. He won't be up for--"

"After what he said to me last night, I don't really care." He felt bad about cutting Alfred off, but he hadn't slept in so long that he wasn't feeling in a particularly charitable mood. "If I had to stay up all night thinking about what a jerk your boss is, then he can get up this morning to listen to me tell him what a jerk he is."

Alfred heaved a weighty sigh, as if this had been the outcome he'd feared from the beginning. "It has never been his intention to be thoughtless or hurtful toward you."

Gordon suddenly felt incredibly foolish. In all the weeks since he'd figured out Wayne's secret, it had never once crossed his mind that Alfred knew as well. Of course he would, though, living in the same house together. "He tells you just about everything he does, doesn't he, Mr Pennyworth?"

"I wouldn't presume to know, sir. What Master Wayne does in his time is his business, but he does confide a great deal in me, if that's what you mean."

"Did he tell you what he decided to do last night?" Without giving the other man time to answer, Gordon exploded in frustration, throwing up his hands. "I just _hate_ that he thinks I'm too stupid to understand or figure out why he stays out all night."

"Ah. Perhaps you _had_ best speak with him regarding this oversight on his part." Alfred hid his discomfort with the topic by lacing his hands together behind his back and standing a little straighter. "Although, perhaps you may want to think of it in another light before laying into him too badly."

Gordon crossed his arms over his chest and struggled to keep calm rather than pacing in his agitation. "What might that be?"

"You're thinking of it as Master Wayne either assuming you couldn't 'figure it out', as you say, or that he's trying to hide himself from you." He paused a moment to ensure that the commissioner was actually paying attention before continuing. "You are plainly in possession of exceptional deductive reasoning skills, and I am sure that Master Wayne has never doubted your intelligence. Another possibility might be that by his remaining silent on the matter, he's created an element of plausible deniability for you, should anyone ask about his whereabouts. Or perhaps it might be that someone specifically asked him not to tell you about it."

"Who would ask--" The skeptical expression on Gordon's face turned to horror as he realized what he'd done all those months ago. "Oh my God. I..." With some effort, he stopped himself before finishing his thought. It seemed that Alfred was already aware that he'd expressly instructed Batman not to share his identity -- and if he wasn't, Gordon didn't relish the idea of telling him. "¬¬I promise not to throttle or arrest him. May I go up to see him?"

Surprised that the commissioner was asking permission, Alfred acquiesced. "Having your word on the matter, I'll just leave the two of you to have it out. Will, uh, will you be remaining for breakfast, sir?"

"That's entirely up to him."

"I see. Then I'll alert the kitchen that they should prepare breakfast for two at the usual time. Don't hesitate to call if either of you should want anything before then. I trust you can find your own way up?" When he nodded in a stunned silence, Alfred just smiled back at him with an almost smug air of approval. "Very good, sir."

*****

Gordon wasn't sure how long he knelt beside Wayne's bed watching the other man sleep. Thin wisps of light managed to find their way in through the heavy drapes, but the dim illumination didn't hinder the other man's rest. Wayne truly was a sight to behold as he lay in bed curled around a pillow. It was only because the other man's guard was down that Gordon was able to see all the imperfections marring his torso.

Besides his mouth being turned down in a slight frown as he slept, the man's body was also marked in a number of other ways that suggested that Bruce Wayne was more than a simple businessman. Just from where he knelt, Gordon could count no less than four scars where Wayne had been stitched up rather clumsily. Only one looked to have been done neatly, but as it was across Wayne's shoulder, Gordon assumed that Alfred had been called in to assist with it. Looking at each one in turn, he burned them into his memory. This was the sacrifice that Batman had made in order to protect Gotham, and now he was forcing another sacrifice on himself needlessly by pushing Gordon away.

As he drew nearer into Wayne's personal space, the man suddenly seemed to sense his intrusion and Wayne jerked upright with a start. There was a moment when Gordon was afraid that he was going to leave with a shiner that would entirely be his fault for startling a sleeping vigilante, but as soon as Wayne realized who it was kneeling beside him, he immediately blew out a sigh of relief. Falling back against the pillows, his earlier adrenaline rush fading, Wayne smiled up at him sleepily. "G' morning."

The pleased expression on his face belied their earlier conversation the night before, and Gordon couldn't help wondering if Wayne actually thought that he didn't know. "Good morning, yourself," he said back, reaching out to smooth Wayne's hair off his forehead. "Sleep well?"

"Haven't actually slept yet," was Wayne's response as he rolled over onto his back and closed his eyes wearily. He seemed very content to have Gordon continue stroking his head, and he rolled closer to the edge to make an easier reach for the commissioner. "You?"

"Me neither. I spent most of the night thinking about you, actually." When Wayne made a tired but pleased-sounding noise in response, Gordon lowered his hand to brush it along the man's cheek. "There's something that I need to talk to you about."

Wayne raised an eyebrow curiously before scooting over to make room for Gordon in the bed beside him. He then lifted the blankets invitingly in an offer to join him. Gordon hesitated before finally sitting on the edge of the bed facing away from the other man. "Okay..." Sitting up slowly, he eyed Gordon with concern. "Is everything all right?"

"For a long time now, I've been hoping that you would be able to work up the courage to talk to me about how you feel. I really wanted you to open up to me, but since you didn't, I will. I told you before that there was someone else that I was seeing." Wayne's expression fell even further, which hurt, but Gordon forced himself to press on. "It's Batman." 

He waited for a visual cue from Wayne, but the other man only sat there blankly. For a moment, Gordon doubted himself at the stricken expression on Wayne face. If he was wrong about this, it would be very bad, but from what Alfred had said, he was certain that he was right. "Last night, I told him that I loved him. Do you know one of the things I love most about him?"

"Jim, please. Don't."

"I love the fact that even when Batman's trying to sound... rough... hard... low... He still has the same little lisp that you have." 

Wayne brought his hands up cover his face. "No."

Turning on the bed to face him, Gordon said, "I meant what I told you. The good, the bad." He held up an index finger against each temple to emulate the ears of Batman's cowl before adding, "The slightly neurotic."

"No!"

He wasn't sure why Wayne was so upset. He tried to brush his hand along Wayne's face again, but he pulled away from his touch. "I meant it. Bruce, look at me. I meant it. I love every part of him. Of you. It's all the same."

"It's _not_ the same! He's not me, that's not who I want to be."

Gordon felt a small surge of relief that he hadn't been completely off base. "There's nothing wrong with who you are."

"I don't want to be him. And I don't want you to like me _because_ of him."

"Him, you -- it's all the same."

"It's _not_. He's... cold. Violent. It's so hard to keep him in check, all the time."

"But you do. That's part of what makes you so special. Batman is strong, dedicated, intelligent. Bruce Wayne is loyal, kind, fun, warm. Each of your sides is incredible in its own way." This time his advances weren't shrugged off, and Gordon ran a hand through Wayne's hair, cupped his face, and leaned in for a kiss. After quickly kicking off his shoes, Gordon stretched out his legs on the bed to sit alongside him. 

"I admire you so much. You shouldn't be ashamed of who you are or try to write it off." As he spoke, Gordon ran his fingertips along and kissed the marks and scars marring Wayne's body, a symbol of all the sacrifice he'd had to make over the years. "Batman might not be all that you are, but he's a part of you. Not like the mask you show to the media and everyone else. The brainless playboy with a bimbo hanging off each arm -- that's the illusion."

"Batman is dangerous."

"He's human. All of us have a darker side that we have to suppress. Most people don't have the training or the will to make it lethal, but you can control it. Even when questioning the Joker, I could tell that you wanted to, but you didn't cross the line. The fact that he's sitting in Arkham is proof of that."

Not wanting to hear any more, Wayne pushed him down onto the mattress to claim another kiss instead. When he pulled back, he shifted to rest his head on Gordon's shoulder and let out a soft sigh of resignation. "I love you, too, but I don't want what we have to be based on _him_."

"You are Batman. Or Batman is you -- whichever you prefer. It's all the same to me. _You_ are what I want, and you shouldn't have to bear the burden of being Batman alone. I never should have asked you not to tell me. It's my own damn fault, and I got exactly what I asked for." Gordon pulled him nearer in a close embrace.

"I wanted to tell you. So many times, I tried to."

"Not an easy thing to work into conversation, I'll grant you." 

"I was scared. I was scared that if I said anything..."

"I'm not going anywhere. You'll have to try a lot harder than that if you want to get rid of me."

Wayne gave a chuckle in reply before pressing in even closer and throwing an arm around the commissioner just right to block the sunlight from his eyes. "Be here when I wake up?"

"Anything you want." Gordon nestled down beside him, rubbing a hand along his back soothingly. "Remember: Now we're two."

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _"You're real to me. Illusions don't have to wear battle armor, and I don't want to have regrets if something should happen to one of us." He could see the other man's hesitation wavering, so he pulled aside the thin white blanket covering him and inched over to make room for Batman in the narrow bed. "Please?"_
> 
> __Unable to refuse, Batman allowed himself to be pulled forward, and he wrapped himself around Gordon while being mindful of the IV. For a time, he was content just to lie there, stretched out alongside the other man, running his hands along Gordon's body, silently reassuring himself that the commissioner was all right, that he had managed to get there in time._ _
> 
> ___It wasn't long before Gordon cupped his chin and lifted his head to bring their mouths together. Kissing wasn't any easier around the fabric of this mask than it had been around the graphite of his helmet. Letting out a small growl of frustration, Batman reached up to simply remove the ski mask, but Gordon caught his hand to stop him._ _ _
> 
> ____"I trust you," Batman stated, dipping his head down to capture Gordon's lips in another brief kiss._ _ _ _
> 
> _____"And it means a lot to me that you do, but I don't trust me. Not that I would ever tell anyone willingly, but--" He took a deep breath. "I mean, this isn't your secret alone, right? I really hope you have people you love, who you care about and are protecting by wearing that thing."_ _ _ _ _
> 
> ______Batman gave a weak nod of agreement. "There's still someone."_ _ _ _ _ _


	40. Chapter 40

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Medical school spent the last year trying to eat my brains, but I have emerged triumphant... from the first of three Board exams, at least. So even though this chapter was meant to be a short little wrap-up, it still took forever, and I'm sorry. But! The very lovely Sinningia drew a .gif of Bruce in a bear suit as the unofficial mascot of the MCU. [Dancing Mascot Bruce](http://sinningia.dreamwidth.org/37211.html) just needs a little organ to grind and/or a monkey in a fez! Even now, it still makes me happy to look at his fluffy, wiggling butt. :D Thank you again, Sinningia, you are lovely! And a massive thank you to Hunter for all her hard work editing all the things.

Chapter 40

~February 19~

As the cloud cover rolled along the night sky, Gordon stood on the rooftop of the MCU building, gazing up to watch the beam of his "malfunctioning" floodlight reflect the image of a bat over the city of Gotham. It was nearly late enough that the raucous party at Wayne Manor should have been winding down. One extravagant Wayne birthday party was enough for him, and he had no intention of going to another except under coercion. In another hour or so, he'd head back to his desk and clear out for the night. Eventually, Wayne would make his way to his place for--

"You know, the duty roster says that you're not supposed to be here at this hour." 

Gordon felt an incredible sense of déjà vu, and he couldn't help the smiling as he heard Batman come up behind him. "That's the joy of being in charge: I can schedule myself for whenever I want. Isn't there somewhere that _you're_ supposed to be right now?"

"The joy of being the birthday boy, I guess. I can leave my own party whenever I want." The man's voice was laced with amusement as he spoke. "The only person that I was particularly interested in seeing wasn't there, so I left. Although, I must say, Montoya was _very_ smug when I saw her on my way up." 

"You came up the stairs?" Uncertain what must have happened for Batman to have run into one of his junior officers, Gordon pulled his gaze away from the clouds to focus on the man who had come up to stand beside him. He frowned and blinked in surprise to see Bruce Wayne standing there in jeans and a t-shirt rather than his usual nightwear. 

"Someone once told me that everyone was entitled to a night off to be at home with family." A contemplative expression settled itself on Wayne's face as he considered the matter. "In fact, I think that conversation might have happened right here, though I can't be certain. I wonder who could have said that..." 

"No one likes a smart ass," Gordon replied in a warning tone. 

"I'm just teasing. I saw the light on and figured that if you were working late, then I'd come join you until you were done." He stepped up to Gordon and leaned against the commissioner's side, joining him in his peculiar brand of stargazing. "After all, nocturnal billionaires who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones at people who stay up too late." 

Bringing an arm up to wrap around Wayne's waist, the commissioner said, "I felt like spreading some hope and cheer to the people of this fine city, and avoiding a bit of paperwork in the process. Guess it's a good thing nothing's actually going on right now, though, since you're not exactly wearing your 'work clothes'." 

Reaching out, Wayne ran his fingers along the metal siding of the MCU's floodlight before giving a small shrug of his shoulders. "I assumed that if this thing were on for something important, you would have called. I just wanted to be with you -- unless you had wanted some time to yourself?" 

"Not at all. I'm glad that you're here with me." 

"I'm exactly where I belong," he replied, repeating his words as Batman from over a year ago. 

Gordon let his eyes sink shut and just stood there, enjoying the moment. Eventually he asked, "By the way, did you read this evening's copy yet?" 

"Not really. Between a bank robbery, some kids looking to get slapped with arson charges, and a couple of working girls beating up their pimp, I've had a fairly full evening." Rather than sounding put upon by his self-appointed duties as one of Gotham's nighttime guardians, Wayne sounded rather pleased with himself. "I tried skimming the headlines earlier today, but after the fourth headline about Tiger Woods's apology speech, I sort of gave up on the news. Did something interesting happen?" 

"You could say that." Gordon reached into the inner pocket of his overcoat to pull out a newspaper. "You made the front page of the society section." 

Wayne rolled his eyes, though he knew Gordon couldn't see his face. "I thought I said, 'something interesting'. What did I do this time? It's far too early in the night for anyone to be running stories about this year's birthday bash!" 

"Oh, this _is_ interesting." Gordon took a step away and opened the paper, shuffling the sections until he could turn to face Wayne and display the page in question. Some enterprising paparazzo had caught the two of them kissing goodbye in the doorway of Gordon's house as Wayne had left that morning. The headline above the large, color photograph proclaimed, _"Billionaire Playboy Now Commissioner's New Boytoy!"_ A subheading added, _"Midlife crisis post-divorce drives Commissioner Gordon to gay fling."_

"That's...not what I expected." Wayne quickly skimmed the article, chuckling as he reached the end. "Guess that's why Montoya was so damned smug." 

"She's been smug for _hours_." 

Wayne laughed, his voice rising to the higher register that he used for his vapid playboy persona. "Well, she did say that I was totally obvious about how much of a slammin' hottie I think you are." 

Unable to suppress a shudder, Gordon replied, "Don't ever use that phrase again. I already feel old enough most days without you talking like a teenager." 

"I'm pretty sure 'slammin' hottie' isn't the lingo the kids are using these days," Wayne countered, kissing away the sour expression on the other man's face. "Anyway, I was going to suggest that we go home so that I can unwrap my birthday present, but I'm afraid that being an octogenarian, you might not have the energy for it." 

Gordon glared at him. "We'd better get out of here before someone finds some kind of work for us to do. There's no such thing as a quiet night in Gotham, and I want to have plenty of time to make you regret those words." 

Grinning, Wayne grabbed his hand and tugged him toward the door. Sometimes there was nothing more satisfactory than being proved wrong. 

_~END~_


End file.
